


Of Ritual and Romance

by Sebastardmoran



Series: Of Ritual and Romance [1]
Category: Sebastian Moran - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 1980s, Alcohol, BDSM, Boarding School, Class Differences, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugs, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falconry, Hunters & Hunting, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Psychotropic Drugs, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship(s), Roma, Sexual Experimentation, Summer Romance, Young Love, gypsies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sebastardmoran/pseuds/Sebastardmoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'<br/>Part 1: One clean shot.<br/>A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.<br/>NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex (in later parts).<br/>All music is The Velvet Underground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Clean Shot

**Author's Note:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British. This changes through the chapters as he goes throughout the year and matures. Oh, and yeah...the chapters get longer and longer...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Sebastian Moran is shown favour from the most unlikely of people...the Head boy of his boarding school.

"One man can change the world with a bullet in the right place."

One man did. An IRA sniper took out my father with 'one clean shot' as they reported it; just before my fourteenth birthday in the February of 1988. He was meant to be comin' ome to see me, instead he was repatriated back from Belfast in a Union Jack draped coffin.

I stood at the grave and felt my whole life had fallen apart.

He had loved me in the best way he could but he wasn't there enough. He was always disappointed. I wish I could 'ave told him why I was such a mess. Why I 'ad been so 'promisin' and gifted' to bein' expelled at 12. Mum still didn't know about the abuse then; I never told 'er until it was too late.

[I was raised in better days, mostly by myself

No-one ever took the time or was inclined to help

Mother dear, she was never near, she left me to the street

A little boy who was not too tall, with dirty hands and feet]

[Little old Jack you best stay back…]

He had managed to get me into the Duke of York's Royal Military School in Kent. It was still an all boy's boardin' School then and cost a bloody fortune; after the funeral they let me stay on an' gave me a bursary.

'Dukies', that was what we were called, and the motto was... "Sons of the Brave".

They said it would be good for me. It was. I loved it. It gave me the discipline I needed, taught me stuff you would never learn at 'normal' school; and was a 'Golden Ticket' to get a place in the regiment I wanted to join. The Rifles.

I excelled at Rugby, Fencin', Boxin' and they taught me 'ow to shoot.

I learnt a lot of other things too...but they 'ad nothing to do with the School or the Army.

Just one boy.

It started without me even bein' aware of it. I always knew I was Gay or bi at least, but there was no way after what 'ad 'appened to me that I would admit it to anyone.

 

[Now I'm grown, I'm on my own, running free and wild

Not inclined to be entwined with a Mrs and a child

Though my dear it may seem queer, it keeps me in the black

Should you depart to break my heart, don't bother looking back]

 

[Little Old Jack, you best stay back]

 

I tried so 'ard not to look at other kids, but come on...a single sex school, with all those hormones, the sweet smell of sweat an' pheromones in the changin' rooms? Showerin' together, dorms and parades an' whispers in the dark? Sneakin' quick wanks at night hoping no one will 'ear. Someone always did, an' once I could hear the kid in the next bed at it, I couldn't help listenin’, imaginin’ stuff, y'know?

Fuck. It was torture.

One June Thursday afternoon, nearly four months after Dad died, I went for my Boxin' trainin'. I was in a particularly fucked up mood an' really just wanted to take it out on someone. Nigel Ewitt was the kid who wanked so much in the next bed to me. I didn't like 'im much, he was a cocky shit who was always boastin' about how his father was a yacht ownin' millionaire.

I look back now an' fink maybe he was a bit of a sad kid. His Dad obviously didn't give a shit about 'im and whilst he was off sunning himself on his Yacht he banged the kid up in the School an' forgot about 'im.

Anyway...Nigel said summat about his Dad an' it annoyed me. So even before we got in the ring, gloves still off, I clouted him on hard across the jaw. This would have been okay 'cos no one saw it. Except despite bein' shorter than me, as most people were. He was about four stone heavier an' it was all muscle. He came back at me with a right hook an' split my lip, bad. I fink the Sports Master felt a bit sorry for me cos he knew what a tosser Nigel was an' he obviously knew about Dad. So all he did was sigh heavily and helpin' me off the ground whispered just four words.

/Moran. Nurse. Now. Go./

I trudged across the Quad and Parade ground into the 19th Century main buildin' with it's beautiful wooden beams and high ceilin's. Proper Boarding School it was, just like...Oh...well I'll tell you that later.

I made my way down the corridors smellin' of wooden floor polish an' strewn with military paintings and War memorabilia. I loved those corridors, you could spend hours just readin' the little signs underneath the trophies, and medals, paintin's an' the like. It was history you could see, smell an' touch.

The Nurse or Matron's office was hidden away from the main master’s offices an' was closer to the Dorms of the older boys. The ‘prefects’ an' ‘head boys’ had their own adjoinin' rooms further away nearer the Library; so that they could study and mooch around feelin’ like important jumped up pricks....

...Or so I thought then.

I knocked on the paneled wooden door and waited.

Nothin'.

I knocked again. My lip was really pissin' blood now and it was soakin' into my boxin' vest, an' drippin' on my shorts.

Nothin'.

I looked at myself in the glass of a trophy cabinet. I was 14 and already 6 ft 1". Lanky long legs, quite muscular though with good toned biceps and calves. My floppy hair was always being flicked at by the masters. They moaned over an' over again about me gettin' the top cut. No matter how many times I did, it always grew back faster than the rest of it.

"You boy, Moran isn't it?" I could see the blurred reflection of a tall figure in the glass an' turned around.

Behind me in the shadow of the corridor stood the fifteen year old 'Primary Head Boy', Mr fuckin' perfect himself...

Simon Wessex

[My Malenky Merzky Malchick O' Mine]

His voice was everythin' a stereotyped boardin' school boy should be, posh...Oh so very posh. Cocky on the point of arrogant, a right plumy bastard an' always said everythin' with a smirk.

"Yeah? So what?" I tried to back up a bit cos I thought I would get myself in more shit. "I mean Yes...Sir".

He was leanin' against a door frame in shirt sleeves, with his tie slightly loosened because of the heat. Despite only being June it was gettin' hot already. It always seemed to be hotter in the Summer in the eighties. He was an inch or so shorter than me but didn't look it because of his long legs, gangly, skinny boy with long arms and delicate wrists...The Schools dark grey uniform didn't help, making him look even thinner.

It was his /face/.

I had never noticed before how attractive he was. I had seen him hundreds of times in the parades marchin' in front of the other older boys. In the hall on various duties, checkin' the boys in and out at meal times. I had always avoided his gaze because after all I was a rough kid with a history of disruption an' violence. Last thing I wanted was to be noticed by the Head boy.

/He/ had noticed /me./ He knew my name.

He had jet black hair and cold grey blue eyes, high sharp cheek bones and thin dark eyebrows, one of which seemed to be permanently quirked in an expression of indignation. A long slightly crooked nose, cleft chin and Archers bow lips, long an' stretched, pale pink an' soft.

My stomach did a strange little dance an' a warm tinglin' rose from my thighs into my groin. I backed up a little into the shadow of my side of the corridor so he couldn't see I was gettin' aroused.

"She's not here. Third Thursday of the month. She's on leave. Say's so on the door if you had bothered to look." He sounded far too much like he was insinuatin' I was thick.

"I was too worried about bleedin' everywhere won' I?" A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth before his pointed pink tongue slipped out across his lips moistenin' them. Then he spoke again with a slight laugh.

"You best come with me then" With that he withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the Matron's door. I guess I stood there for a moment lookin' confused because he continued...

"Well come on in then...I am on medic duties...and yes, you are bleeding everywhere...hurry up boy."

I touched my fingers to my lip; it needed one stitch as least. I stood stupidly on one side of the threshold lookin' at him on the other as he held the door open.

One step over that threshold an' my life changed forever...

...I took that step, and walked into the room.

**********


	2. Emotion is Good.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 2: Emotion is good.
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his father’s death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex (in later parts).
> 
> All music is The Velvet Underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

[Those who are given most also have most to give.]

The room smelled mildly of disinfectant an' lavender. It, like the rest of the buildin’ had the wooden panellin' around the lower parts of the walls but with a large window an' white painted surfaces. There was a vase of flowers on the table an' a painting of a mother an' child on the wall. It had a welcomin' woman's touch, a mother’s warmth. It was not surprising the Matron was a popular woman amongst the boys who missed their own mothers an' some were known to feign illnesses just to come here to sit and talk to her, share her tea an' biscuits.

Wessex stood with his back to me now silhouetted against the window. He was openin’ and shuttin’ drawers in a large cabinet retrievin’ the items he felt he needed. Dust particles rose from the wood an' swirlin' in the Summer sun they surroundin' 'im.

 

[Here we go again

playing the fool again.

Here we go again, acting hard again.

Well I'm beginning to see the light.

Well I'm beginning to see the light.

Now I'm beginning to see the light.]

 

"Sit down Moran...day bed." I looked towards the other wall where there was a long white metal day bed used for those feelin' too poorly to be returned to their dorm. I did as I was instructed an' sat, Wessex came back to me clutchin' a towel which he lay across my lap.

"Not like you Moran, I thought you were a good boxer. Why is your opponent not here with you? I watched him as he pulled up a chair in front of me, drawing a small table to him on it items to clean the wound spreading the instruments in a professional manner.

"We weren't in the ring" I answered. He arched his left eyebrow and smiled.

"Bit of a boy, aren't we Moran." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"What does that mean?" I bit back. He started to clean my face, dippin' cotton wool in a kidney dish of water, he wiped the now congealed blood away from my chin.

"It means, I have noticed you." He paused, starin’ at my mouth. “I heard you were expelled from your last School" Tuttin’ he stretched out some latex gloves an' put them on to inspect the lip.

"Yeah, but there were reasons." I didn't wanna talk about it. I was still confused as to what he meant by 'a bit of a boy'.

"I heard your father died recently, I am sorry; mine died when I was younger, I know how hard it is." I watched his eyes as they traveled from my lip up to my own, the look was genuine, he meant it.

"Fanks...You...you seem different from what I thought you would be." He smiled an' began to unroll the surgical thread an' ease it into the curved needle, he had deftly removed from its packet.

"I am not sure what that means but I will take it as a compliment. I hear lots of things in my position. I also heard you are an excellent shot…so good that the Masters think you would make a fine Sniper". I winced as he pulled at the split trying to speak at the same time...

"Fuck. Ow. Is there anyfin' you don't know about me? Why the interest? Head boys don't give a shit about Cockney lower class scum, especially from a different House. Are you qualified to do this?“ He was worryin’ me now. He seemed so calm an' serene, he was nothin' like what I thought he would be. I was expectin' an arrogant prick but instead he seemed...nice, I wasn't sure how to react.

"You fascinate me Moran...I've watched you. Now…this needs a stitch boy...I am trained to do it, or I wouldn't be bloody doing it, so shut up or I might sew your lips together." He rubbed a little cream into the lip which despite still bleedin' seemed to be slowin' down. Pinchin' it he pierced the skin without warning and eased the needle through the two sides before pullin' an' tyin' it off. I winced but the pain was minimal an' havin' a high pain threshold it was nothin' to the punch that caused it in the first place. The concentration on his face was what fascinated me, he really did know what he was doin'.

"You gonna be a Doctor?"

"Yes. Hopefully, one day. There, now you are back to your handsome self Moran" With that he stroked his fingers down my cheek before removin' his gloves. I frowned at the comment, I was well aware I was an unusual lookin' boy an' was always a little sensitive about it. When I bit back this time I tried my hardest to seem like I didn't care.

"What are you, a poof?" What a twat, it just came out. I was so used to the Dorm banter and piss-takes out of the more effeminate boys that ended up being pestered for 'favours' that I just destroyed my pride in my sexuality in one word. Back then people had never heard of 'takin' back phrases like Queer and Poof'. It was the eighties and a whole new form of homophobia had been born from the AIDS epidemic. We were considered disease carriers and sex fiends.

"Why? Shouldn't bother you...you are queer too. I've seen you." He pushed the table away and sat back on the chair opening his legs wide. Smug bastard knew I would look. My eyes involuntarily moved to his crotch just for one split second. "I watch you when I am on breakfast duty, you 'look' at the more pretty boys, the younger ones. Always been disappointed you have never looked at me though..." I was gobsmacked for want of a better phrase considerin' my lip.

"How? I...I...you are the Head boy why would I?" He leant forward then an' rested his hands on my knees. The hairs on my legs bristlin' at the touch, an' my cock twitchin' at the movement of the tips of his fingers as he plucked at them.

"Don't be surprised...Did you think you were the only Queer in an all boys school? Don't panic...we need to...stick together." His hands left my legs and I felt a little disappointment, wanting the sensations to return.

 

[Well I'm beginning to see the light.

I'm beginning to see the light.

I wore my teeth in my hands

So I could mess the hair of the night

Well I'm beginning to see the light.

Hey I'm beginning to see the light.]

"I know that it's just I...didn't want anyone to know. I didn't know I was so obvious."

"You're not. I just look...very hard. In fact...I am having a little soiree on Saturday in my rooms. Just a few friends, a mixture of people, all quite lovely. It won't be much, just a little booze and confiscated grub, maybe some drugs. Fancy coming along?" He smiled broadly, his large white teeth glintin' in the light.

"Why me? Won't your mates think it's a bit weird?" He laughed heartily and catchin' my chin between his fingers his inspected his handiwork.

"Because I like you, you're angry and that is good. Anger is an energy, an' emotion. Emotion is good. Like I said…we are a mixed bunch, not all my age. Bring...some dope or a bottle. Anything. You know where our rooms are don't you? Saturday 9pm. After, one of us will walk you back to your Dorm. There...sorted." With that he rose an' turned away from me, a signal for me to leave.

"Yes...okay. Thanks. Just me yeah?"

"Just you Moran"

"Just me."

"Now run along and have a shower. You stink and those clothes will need to be binned". He didn't turn back so I turned an' walked away, totally confused.

 

[There are problems in these times

but none of them are mine

Baby, I'm beginning to see the light.]

 

Why would he want me?

The tradition of 'faggin' 'ad died out a long time ago...but in the back of my mind I 'ad a naggin' feelin' tha' I was bein' set up...

 

I was.

 

[How does it feel to be loved?

How does it feel to be loved?]

**  
*******


	3. The Boy in the Mirror.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'  
> Part 3: The boy in the Mirror.  
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his father’s death.  
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex (in later parts).  
> All music is The Velvet Underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

Friday came and went. I went to my classes as normal. Fencing, Maths, Art, English and Chemistry. I had particularly enjoyed fencing that day, I had beaten my opponent Edward Hastings with a coupé attack and tired him out completely. He was a weak opponent really, and didn't have his heart in it.

I snatched a half bottle of Irish malt from the Maths masters drawer on the way out. He was eager to get to lunch, the fat bastard, so he left the drawer unlocked. I had seen it in there when I had been stood at the front once. It's not like he was going to snitch on anyone because it wasn't exactly an essential to teachin’. I picked up an eighth of blow from a kid in the year above me, and I was ready.

Was I ready?

What was I even ready for?

What did he expect from me?

Saturday.

The day of rest for us Dukies. Some of us had morning duties or maybe and extra class but the afternoon and evenin’ were all ours. We were allowed off the grounds and most of us would spend times visiting families, or older boys spent the day in the town pickin’ up girls. I used to go to the cinema, religiously, it was my church. I would watch whatever they would let me into watch. Being so tall sometimes had its advantages, and I watched mainly stuff way above my age. A coke, a popcorn and a ticket all came to just a fiver then, which was half of my week’s allowance.

I was in love with Indiana Jones, wanted to be in that Delorean and discovered Art films and subversive cinema. Sometimes they would show stuff that had been banned or had been too risky when it was first released. Here, I found my one true love...Malcolm McDowell. I went one Saturday, and the only thing showing was IF the 1968 film about a rebellion in a Boarding School. It blew me away. Ironic really considerin’ the endin’. Then came Caligula, I came out of the cinema, eyes wide in a state of shock. It was fantastic. I longed to watch Clockwork Orange but it was still banned here...so I made do with the book and imagined Alex ...as I lay in my Dorm bed...beside me. Drinking my cocoa and sharin’ my stash of biscuits and fags.

I didn't go to the cinema, I didn't even go to town, I went down to the showers, dressed and sat in the library. It was like I have to not get myself messed up before I went out; like when your Mum says we are going to a party later and I don't want you ruin' your best clothes.

I read a little, suspense stuff, then some practical nonfiction on tying knots; history of battles, weaponry and before I knew it, it was time for bed and curfew.

I made my way to the Dorm and brushed my teeth. I changed into my PJ's over my jeans and a T-shirt and climbed into bed. Our Dorm consisted of five beds on each side of the room with a small bathroom at the far end. It had hard wooden floors which were so well polished the dust never settled on it, and we could skate across it in our sock feet smashin' into the other wall.

The on duty Master would be round to check we were in bed then leave us to the Prefects on duty. In the summer though it was much easier to sneak out, the prefects couldn't be arsed and we usually 'avin' a secret ciggie somewhere, and the Masters were out walkin’ to the nearest Pub in the village. Still with my PJs on I snuck out at 9.15pm; I was late...I only 'oped that Wessex would still let me in. I was so nervous and I wasn't really even sure why. Part of me was scared and excited to be 'angin' around with the older more popular kids. The other part was terrified that I was gonna end up the butt of a huge joke. Some fun to pass the time. I put my pillows in my bed and told the kid next to me I felt a bit unwell so I was gonna sneak out for a walk and a fag. He didn't care, there was always at least one of us out prowling the corridors or the grounds.

The sun had moved to the other side of the building and the air was chilled here, the lower corridors dark and silent. Down the end of the main prefect corridor I could hear a low murmur of voices and music, so I walked towards it. On the door was a brass sign: 'Head boy', and underneath it blue tacked to the wood, was an open, flattened Benson and Hedges packet with 'Wessex' scrawled across it.

The music was the Velvet Underground. I surprised at his taste, maybe he wasn't such a stiff shirt after all.

 

[I'll be your mirror

Reflect what you are, in case you don't know

I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset

The light on your door to show that you're home]

Breathin’ deeply I knocked and waited. I could hear laughter and I nearly turned tail and left there and then. The door opened. It was Simon. Hair loose and unkempt, wearing a black T shirt and tight jeans, barefoot.

“Ahh…Hello /Sebastian/…do come in” He smiled slyly and I could feel my facial muscles drop as he stepped away from the door and waved me in. It took me a few moments before my legs could move. I stepped over the threshold.

“Oh for Christ’s sake Simon what’s Moran doing here?” I turned to see Edward Hastings sprawled across a sofa with his head in the lap of an older boy, Michael Hutchinson. Michael was stroking Edwards’s hair and twisting its blonde curls around his fingers.

“Shut up Teddy…Michael slapped the boys arse through his jeans and he groaned. ‘Fuck’. I had no fuckin’ idea…I swear my mouth hung open. Simon laughed and sat on his single bed pushin’ the pillows up against the wall.

“Moran’s my new /pet/. “

I frowned and glared at ‘im.

“I ain’t no fuckin’ pet.” I wanted to storm out but my feet felt like they were glued to the wooden floorboards.

“Careful Simon, I heard his bite is worse than his bark”. The comment came from a strawberry blonde boy with glasses who was perched on the arm of the sofa next to Michael with a bottle of beer in one hand and a copy of Proust in the other.

“I agree” ‘Teddy’ piped up. “The lanky arse always pans me at fencing. Savage beast.”

“Sav-age- bea-sst…” Simon repeated the words as those they were something to be savoured. “This is Petey, Moran, Jonathan Peterson. Our Viking warrior of words, hailing from the land of the midnight sun, looking to pillage the kitchens and the Masters Beer cupboard. Which he does very well by the look of the little spread we have here tonight. What’s in the bag, Moran?”

“Yes what’s in the bag, Moran?” Michael repeated Simon like an annoying echo. His dark hair and bright blue eyes twinkling in the settin’ sun through the window.

I placed my rucksack on the floor and pulled out the Pyjamas that I had taken off on the way over. There was a hushed silence. I pulled out the half bottle of malt and eighth of resin, some Rizla’s and a fag packet.

Petey spoke first.

“Fucking hell. Drink and drugs. We /are/ spoilt. Teddy, quick, open the window…”

Simon smiled broadly and patted the bed. “Come sit next to me, I’ll help you roll them. May I see the Whiskey? “His hand slid to my own as I sat down. My back pressed up against the wall, my leg brushing against his. I passed him the bottle. He looked at it, opened it, sniffed it, took a swig and handed it back. “Not bad, I will invite you more often.” Then he winked. I wasn’t here to be laughed at or fagged like Teddy who truthfully seemed to revel in being bossed around and told to sit down, sat up, roll over by Michael. I couldn’t tell whether it was more than friendship, but there was obviously something sexual there.

The beer, food and whiskey were shared out, bread, apples, posh cheeses and sweets. It was a private picnic. Then there was a short, quiet series of knocks on the door, and Teddy was told to open it. I was beginnin’ to relax, and as the first tokes were being taken, I sank a little into the wall; the comfort of Simon’s leg against mine felt natural, and warm. Two more boys entered the room that I recognised as prefects from the year above me; one black and one Asian boy, or Indian as it was more commonly said then. The black kid was Patrique Martin a French boy whose father had sent him to the school to ‘toughen him up’, it was only now I found out why…

He almost ran into the room. He was very handsome and I was fascinated with his hands. Dark brown and smooth with soft knuckles, pink fingernails and pale pink palms. He ran one along Simon’s leg as he sat down on the bed and talked excitedly to him in French. I grasped a little of it. Somethin’ about a letter, I was busy just lookin’ at his hands and his full lips. He leant forward and kissed Simon on the cheek; Simon smiled but I could see somethin’ in Patrique’s eyes. The kiss was lingerin’ and there was a small pause between them before Simon spoke to me again.

“Patrique has a lover Moran, in Paris. An older, married man. This is why his father sent him here…but the lover still writes to him.“ He turned to Patrique and stroked his hand as he walked away to sit on the floor beside Michael and Teddy who had now moved to sit on the dark haired boys lap.

“One day Patti darling they will write a beautiful French romance about you both, and then it will be made into a movie, and you and Gerard will be the world’s most famous gay lovers.”

“Oui, Simon…and you too will one day find love as great as mine.” Patrique laughed and took a beer from Teddy, raisin’ it to him in a toast. The words seemed strange comin’ from a fifteen year old boy talkin’ about an’ older man. Now though it just seems so normal to me. I look back now an’ find the moment quite beautiful.

The other boy Vihaan De Souza was the son of a Portuguese Indian couple from Goa, The father owned a large shippin’ company and spent time goin’ from Goa to the UK. They had decided an English education would be good for him but he was actually the brightest kid in his year when he arrived anyway. He was quiet most of the time but when he did speak, mainly to Patrique he had a very dry sense of humour that made me laugh immensely. He waved the beer away he was offered but did take a long toke on the spliff bein’ handed around. He sat next to Patrique on the floor and whispered occasionally in his ear. Whatever was said Patrique would squirm and giggle uncontrollably.

I never thought it would be about me.

It was though.

After an hour of chattin’ about books, school and movies which bein’ my favourite subject had me wrapped in a semi stoned slightly pissed ramblin’ kind of way, Petey spoke up.

“Come on then Moran, get on with it…”

“What?” I looked at him blankly.

Teddy giggled and Micheal shifted so he was sat virtually on his cock.

“Simon…you never told him?” Petey frowned. I didn’t look at him but I could feel Simon sinkin’ into the bed and he made small squeakin’ noises where he was tryin’ not to laugh. “Our dearest friend and leader of the ‘Dukies association of lost boys and fags’ has not told you about the small but testing initiation into our little band of ‘merry men’? Shame on you, Wessex.”

I shook my head slowly, a little angry. I turned to him and saw him smirkin’ with a pillow over his eyes.

“Simon, What. Is. It?”

“You have to kiss him, passionately…romantically with tongues, the French way Oui?” Patrique blew a kiss to me…

Simon laughed loudly, obviously the drink was goin’ to his head too and he sat up, runnin’ a finger along the front of my t-shirt. When he spoke it was soft and directed only at me.

“All the others have Moran…even Petey and depressingly despite being my best friend he is rather boringly straight”.

The room was silent.

I leant forward and caught his collar of his shirt in my fist. Teddy hissed…probably thinkin’ I was gonna hit him.

I could smell the malt on his lips, he wet them with his tongue and despite the pain in my own from the injury, I pressed mine to his. His eyes on mine, it was gentle and sweet at first; lightly catchin’ each other’s breath. We pulled away, and the room was still silent as my hand fell away from his collar, and went to his shoulder pullin’ him towards me.

 

[I find it hard to believe you don't know

the beauty you are

But if you don't, Let me be your eyes

A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid]

 

It was electric, it was like a revelation, I could kiss him and he would not hurt me, or beat me or rape me. He was another boy. My own kind. His tongue wrapped around mine in my mouth; my lip stingin’ and tastin’ a tang of blood, I sucked at his. I heard a long low moan and a groan and realised it was comin’ from the both of us.

We pulled away again and the room was still silent. I looked around; both Teddy and Micheal were open mouthed. Patrique was smilin’ serenely with his head on Vihaan’s shoulder. Petey pushed his glasses up his nose and exclaimed…

“Well. No one ever did it like that before Moran. Welcome to the club.” He laughed and shook his head goin’ back to his book.

Simon said nothin’ but lay back on the bed quietly.

[Fuck] 

Was all I could think, do or say now. Simon’s voice croaked as he spoke...

“I think it’s time to go boys. Thanks for coming. It’s been…lovely.”

One by one they picked up their things and rubbish to be disposed of on the way back to rooms and dorms. Patrique and Vihaan the first ones to leave smiling sadly, Micheal whisperin’ things to Teddy, holding hands, they left; Petey said goodnight before heading to his room, through a door in the adjoinin’ wall.

I watched them all leave before slidin’ off the bed, crouchin’ to retrieve my things and puttin’ them in the rucksack. Simon did not move.

“Not you Moran. Stay here. There is no need for you to leave.”

“But I have to get back they will notice if I’m not back by midnight.”

“For God’s sake. I’m the Head Boy. I will figure something out.”

I stood over him, I felt uncomfortable ; he raised himself onto his elbows and then his feet, standin’ in front of me.

“I want you…I…want you to fuck me.” Just like that, very matter of fact, get it out in the open, go on, say it Simon, don’t you think about it. I could feel my stutter returnin’ I was so nervous.

“W-What? I d-don’t understand” He sighed heavily and fingers going to the hem of his t-shirt he peeled it up over his chest and off his arms throwin’ it to the bed. He was beautiful. So thin and pale, with dark brown moles and freckles. His stomach muscles tight and his jeans low on his hips.

“I want to lose my virginity. I am fifteen, randy as fuck, I need this, I want you. You are more mature physically and mentally than most of the boys in my year. It’s either this or I bend over Tugger Jeankins desk and let him roger me, till I bleed.”

Tugger Jeakins was the seedy maths master who we felt was a bit of a pedophile. We saw the way he looked at some of the boys and a few had told each other stories about how he had suggested after hours maths tuition.

“No…no, don’t do that.” I didn’t really know what I was sayin’ or agreein’ to.

He undid his flies slowly watchin’ my face, before pushin’ down his jeans and shorts then steppin’ out of them.

I just stared. He had small hips and dark pubic hair, with a beautiful long semi hard cock protrudin’ from them. I wanted to touch him.

[Fuck]

“Why me?” 

“Why not?

“Yes, but /why/ me?

“Because you are passionate Moran. You are angry, sad, violent, and forthright and I can feel the fucking hormones seeping out of your bloody skin. Because I want to feel loved, and needed, and want to feel you inside me. That bloody kiss just made my mind up…

…Don’t you want me?”

“Yessss” It came out as a hiss…as I walked towards him he backed away.

“Wait…I need to…bathroom. Take off your clothes and wait for me.” He was shakin’, nervous and uneasy.

I was terrified.

I sat on the bed as he went to the bathroom he and Petey shared.

I turned my head away as he walked, draggin’ my eyes away from his arse. He wanted me /inside/ him.

[Fuck]

 

[When you think the night has seen your mind

That inside you're twisted and unkind

Let me stand to show that you are blind

Please put down your hands]

 

I looked in the mirror. All I saw was a slightly broken child, with tears in his eyes. A man in a soldier’s uniform stood behind me suckin’ at my neck and pushin’ his hand into the front and back of my jeans.

I felt sick.

So I turned away and walked out the door. Cryin’ I walked along the corridor, with no plan, no alibi, no excuse for bein’ there, with the resin in my jeans pocket and my PJ’s in the bag.

I stopped. Looked at my shakin’ hand in the blue moonlight and shadows.

What was I doin’?.

I could erase this.

I could pretend.

I didn’t have to tell him I wasn’t a virgin.

I could lie, and lie with him.

I wanted him.

I wanted to taste him and feel him and fuck him.

[Fuck]

I turned around and walked back to his room, and gently knocked on the door.

He opened it an’ inch and walked away; so quietly, I walked into the room. I could hear the Velvet Underground playing again softly. He sat naked on the sofa starin’ blankly in the mirror, tears streamin’ down his cheeks drippin’ onto his knees.

His voice barely audible he sounded tired.

“You had your chance Moran. You walked away.”

“No. I came back. I am sorry…really. I-I-I was scared. I am a…I’ve never either. Not even kissed anyone before…I don’t know what I am doin’”

He stood and turned to me, a little of his confidence back, he held out his hand and took mine in his.

I took a step towards him, dropped my bag and placed my other hand at his hip.

This time the kiss was different, it was an unspoken agreement.

We were in this together.

 

['Cause I see you

I'll be your mirror…

Reflect what you are]

*****

 


	4. Beginnings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'  
> Part 4: Beginnings  
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his father’s death.  
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

We stood for a few moments mirrorin’ each other, my hand at his hip, his went to mine, I kissed the corner of his mouth, he gently did the same. Neither of us knew what we were doin’...we were 'feelin' our way.

The way I had, had sex forced upon me was overpowerin’ and brutally cruel. I wanted this to be...somethin’ else. I had no idea what but it would be nothin’ like being raped.

Was it fate? No I don't believe in it...though the fact that on Simons record player on repeat that night was 'Venus in furs'...Erotic, sensual, images of sadomasochism inspired by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, writings...the masochist himself. Something grew inside me that night. A seed was sown and it was all the work of this one sixteen year old boy. It softly played, the whining guitar and sitar sounding strings and violin, the gently tappin’ of the tambourine like a dancer's hips swayin’. It was hypnotic and so very right for this moment. It was the openin’ track to the movie of my life.

[Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather  
Whiplash girlchild in the dark  
Comes in bells, your servant, don't forsake him  
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart]

The room was darker now, the only light his bedside lamp, a soft warm, orange glow. I drew my hands up his back to his shoulders as we slowly kissed. His mouth tastin’ of toothpaste and whiskey; mumblin’ against his lips I finally said what we were both thinkin’.

"W..what do we do now?" He smiled against my mouth and whispered.

"Relax...you stutter when you nervous...I want to see you..." His long fingers moved to the hem on my shirt and, cool hands explored my back and stomach. Gently brushin’ the soft brown hairs already growin’ across my lower stomach trailin’ down to my pubic hair. I helped him pull it up and over my shoulders. My nipples tightenin’ as the cooler air hit them. I shivered as he threw it towards the sofa.

Pullin’ him closer, desperate for the feel of his skin against mine I enveloped him in my arms and moved my mouth to his neck, sucklin’ gently. His fingers undoin’ my flies I gave a pathetic little whimper and he laughed. He pushed my jeans and shorts over my hips, my already thick lengthy cock glad to be free from its prison, it sprang forth and gently hit him in the stomach. Uneasily I felt my thighs tighten and my cheeks colour in a blush of embarrassment.

Smilin’ he tilted back and looked down at it..his voice full of silken sarcasm.

"Yes...I heard about that as well. I do believe the boys in your year are really rather jealous" Tentatively he stretched out his fingers and ghosted them along my length before wrapping them around it givin’ it a few long slow strokes...

All I could do was sigh....

"Si"

[Downy sins of streetlight fancies  
Chase the costumes she shall wear  
Ermine furs adorn the imperious  
Severin, Severin awaits you there]

The next few minutes were a blur. I stepped out of my jeans and shorts and he guided me to his bed. All legs and arms we wrapped ourselves around each other tangled limbs in a mess of sloppy teenage kisses, moans and touches...

Our cocks movin’ against each other, it was nothing like I expected, it was so much more. Hot, hard, the friction of our tight curls of dark hair scratchin’ at each others skin. Hip bones grindin’, sweat gatherin’ on thighs and slidin’ together. He whispered against my ear as I sucked at his.

"Please...Seb...bastian....please...do it...please."

He /begged/...I guess the rest of my existence started here. It changed me.

My hands stroked over his thighs...I leant down and gently kissed his stomach.

"It'll hurt...I don't know what to do..." I honestly didn't, I had been face down on the carpet friction burns across my chin. He was beautiful....legs apart, flat stomach glistenin’ all hard angles and bones catchin’ the light. He sat up and reached into the bedside drawers.

"I stole this from the Matrons cupboard." In his hand was a medical tube of lubricant. "It's what she uses for you know..." he giggled "examining certain areas"...

He passed it to me. I looked a little confused at first.

"What about a condom?" There was so much talk of condoms and AIDs I wasn't worried for me...he was a virgin. For months I had worried I was infected, that I was gonna die and it was all Philips fault. Smilin’ sweetly he stroked a hand down my arm, encouragin’ me to open the tube.

"We don't need to, we are both virgins...I want to /feel/ you inside me...please hurry" He pushed his hips towards me, impatient, cock twitchin’. There would be no foreplay, not this time. This was as dangerous as it could get for a fourteen year old boy. Secretly fuckin’ an older boy at midnight in his room whilst his best mate lay sleepin’ next door. It was thrillin’ and terrifyin’ and I wanted it.

[I am tired, I am weary  
I could sleep for a thousand years  
A thousand dreams that would awake me  
Different colors made of tears]

I knelt between his legs, my hair fallin’ foward, the ends prickin’ at my eyes, sweat already stingin’ them. Squeezin’ some of the lubricant into my hand I silently slid it along my cock. Oh God it was cold and made me shiver, me eyes flickerin’ I looked at him as he pulled legs up further displayin’ his arse to me as he fingered himself. I dripped a little onto him and withdrawin’ his long digits he spread it over himself.

"Please...please Sebastian... "

"Ssh Si...relax...fuck...someone will 'ear."

I gripped myself tight and pressed against the hole. As I did he pushed up to me. The head poppin’ into the tight muscle. It was easier than I expected. He had been 'preparin’ himself I guessed for sometime. He didn't cry out or hiss. He hummed a low note. Not a moan or groan just one relaxed note.

I stilled. I was only partially in. A few inches, but he rocked up to me desperate and hungry for it. I leant into him, my elbows on the bed, arms around his shoulders. A breathy plea in my ear...

"Please...I am okay. You aren't hurting me...push...in...harder". Oh, yes. I sunk myself in as deep as I could, before he bucked and whimpered. My thick cock really stretchin’ him I think even he realised this was too much for the first time.

"Fuck...pull out a little, Christ...Oh" The burning in his sphincter had hit home and he writhed, eyebrows knitted together little teardrops forming at the corners again. I pulled out leavin’ only the head covered in the thick sticky mucus mixed gel inside him.

"Sorry Simon...do you want me to stop.?" I was trynna hold on to my senses. Everythin’ was tense, my legs my arms, stomach and cock was achin’ and sore. Though it felt wonderful. I didn't wanna stop now. Thankfully neither did he.

"No...please God no...just..." He was pantin’ hard now and whinin’ between each word. "Just not so deep, so quickly" Even sayin’ it caused him to whimper and it elicited a low moan from me.

[Kiss the boot of shiny, shiny leather  
Shiny leather in the dark  
Tongue of thongs, the belt that does await you  
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart]

I moved again, deeper, slower and began to learn...to teach myself, for him to teach me, what felt good, when to do it and with what amount of pressure. Slowly I withdrew and pushed back, he moved against me, the bed creakin’ under our weight. Oblivious to the noise all I could hear was his heavy breathin’, the way he whispered my name and his pleas.

"Seb...bastian...do it...fuck me....dear fucking Christ boy..." We kissed deeply, long and hard. I moved within him, he tightened and milked me, muscles clenchin’ around me. I hit somethin’ within him and he cried out loudly. I thought I had hurt him again so I began to pull away; but as I did his hands went from my shoulders to my arse and he squeezed the cheeks hard forcin’ me back into him. Again he groaned, unashamed.

"Jesus Si someone will hear" Automatically I brought my hand to his mouth and stilled the noise. His eyes rolled back and he moaned a muffled cry through my fingers. He liked it. I liked it. I couldn't hold back now and faster I rocked into him. The movements buildin’ up to thrusts.

The bloody bed creakin’, Simon moanin’ and whatever noise I was submittin’ was buildin’ into a crescendo. I was gonna cum. My first time. My [second] first glorious time. Deep inside this beautiful boy who out of all the ones he could have had in the school, he wanted an overgrown delinquent of a boy two years younger than him.

[Severin, Severin, speak so slightly  
Severin, down on your bended knee  
Taste the whip, in love not given lightly  
Taste the whip, now plead for me]

"Simon, I'm gonna, fuck I am gonna cum..." My stomach trappin’ his cock between us the friction must have been unbearable for him. I took my hand away from his mouth and fumbled for his cock, we fisted him together and leanin’ on one hand, my muscles screamin’ and arm shakin’ I came. Within seconds he let out a silent scream his mouth fallin’ open, eyes shut, he came across his stomach. I collapsed on him. shakin’ and tearful both pantin’ we rocked each other together. Cock softenin’ now It felt strange and uncomfortable as I shrank and slipped out of him. The cum on our stomachs already growin’ cold and sticky.

I turned on my side, we both just stared at each other. Eyes locked together, mouths dry and brains throbbin’ from the adrenaline, dehydrated from alcohol and dope.

I whispered quietly...

"Do you think anyone heard? It was noisy in a squeaky, moany kinda way..." He laughed at me...no, not /at/ me, /with/ me. He never looked more beautiful.

"Petey /must/ of heard. He won't say anything. He is probably glad I have done it after moanin’ for the past year.".

Aww God I will never be able to look him in the face again. A few moments later I voiced the one thing that was botherin’ me...

"What happens now?" He shrugged and looked at me blankly.

[I am tired, I am weary  
I could sleep for a thousand years  
A thousand dreams that would awake me  
Different colors made of tears]

"We get cleaned up. You put your PJ's on, leave all your stuff here hidden, and I walk you back and say you were sleepwalking. Looking for...your father or something. Sounds genuine doesn't it?" It did. I was notorious for sleepwalking since Dad died.

"No...I meant. What..happens...now...to us?" He broke into another smile, sleepy and a little sullen.

"I..I would like...well, can we see each other? I mean you are a member of the club now. Though I would understand if you didn't..."

"No." I softened my voice I couldn't believe he thought I would want this to end. Never. "No..I want to. See you, be with you, do this...again. It was amazing."

He took my hand and kissed it.

"Yes...it was wasn't it Moran. You spend all your time fightin’ things, but this was our duel. I submit to you, you have beaten me and won my heart."

No one had ever spoken to me like that...no one ever would again not for a very long time.

[Shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather  
Whiplash girlchild in the dark  
Severin, your servant comes in bells, please don't forsake him  
Strike, dear mistress, and cure his heart]

It was a draw, because he had won mine.

*****


	5. Boys Say Go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 5: Boy's say go.
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, mild BDSM.
> 
> Music: Joy Division and Depeche Mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

The next week was painful.

I had successfully pulled off the scam of ‘sleep walking’ by every couple of nights getting up and wandering the corridors. At first it had been in hope of bumping into Simon if he was on duty, but I was only caught once by a prefect I didn’t know, and was marched back to the dorm.

I didn’t see him.

He saw me.

I caught a glimpse once as he walked away. Whilst I was boxing, I was in a particularly foul mood and was beating the crap out of my opponent. I turned as I went into the corner to get a towel and saw him and Petey as they walked out through the double doors. I wondered how long he had been standing there. Had he come to watch, or was it just coincidence?

Friday came, nearly a week after the incident in his room. ‘Incident’ wasn’t really the word for it, but I didn’t want to think of it as a mistake.

 

[Hearts fail, young hearts fail,

Anytime, pressurised,

Overheat, overtired,

Take it quick, take it neat,

Clasp your hands, touch your feet,

Take it quick, take it neat,

Take it quick, take it neat.]

The hall was particularly busy for breakfast as some of the kids would be going home for the weekend after the last classes of the day and wanted to get as much food in as possible before the long journeys.

Simon and Petey were on breakfast duty. Being from my house Peterson was sat at the head of our table keeping a watchful and quiet eye on the goings on from the younger boys. I collected my plate and sat a couple of boys down from him and stared at my hands whilst I waited for the grub to be brought round. When it came I tucked in only to get a feeling I was being watched. I looked up to see Petey staring at me. A small smile hooked the corner of his mouth and he pushed up his glasses. His strawberry blonde hair picking up the colours from the light shining through the WWI memorial stained glass window which dominated the hall. With a little frown he laughed and pointed his knife at my plate…

“Eat up all your eggiwegs Moran. Wessex wants a word with you about your sleepwalking.”

I couldn’t tell whether he was taking the piss or being more sober than the rest of us he had remembered our conversation about Burgess. I relaxed a little as he gave a little wink and a knowing smile.

I think I must have coloured up quite dramatically as the kid next to me laughed and tried to pinch my cheek. I shrugged him off and swore under my breath before leaving my plate and the room.

I had only just made it into the corridor when I heard footsteps behind me and I was shoved into an alcove.

“Hello Sebastian”

“Simon, what the fuck are you doin’? Get off. Why haven’t you spoken to me all bloody week?” I brushed his hands of my shoulders.

His smirk changed to a more apologetic smile.

“Don’t be mad at me. I have a lot of exams next year, we’ve been doing mocks and test runs of everything. I couldn’t get a note to you without anyone noticing. Hold out your hand…”

[Hearts fail, young hearts fail,

Anytime, wearing down,

On the run, underground,

Put your hand where it's safe,

Leave your hand where it's safe.]

“I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, after…” I gingerly held out my hand palm facing up. He placed a piece of card and a small piece of paper in it. The card was a cinema ticket for the next day and the note just said one word. ..’Want’.

The ticket was for ‘Die Hard’. There was major hype about the film and I really wanted to see it. I looked at him and smiled.

“Thank you, this is great. What does the note mean?” He closed my hand around the two items and whispered quietly.

“I am giving all my want to you. I want you to want me.”

 

[Do it again,

Do it again and again and again...]

He backed up a step or two as a couple of boys ran past, he turned and shouted after them…”STOP RUNNING!” They slowed and carried on walking. Turning back he addressed me again.

“Petey and I are coming to the cinema too. I thought it best we all go together, it won’t look so strange. I have to go, I will see you tomorrow.”

With that he began to walk back to the hall. I stood there a stunned for a while before finding my voice.

“Simon…I do… [Want you]…” He span around a big smile on his face as he understood and skipped back through the doors. I felt like I was floating. I couldn’t even remember getting to my classes. I think I flew there.

[Anytime, that's your right.

Don't you wish you do it again,

Overheat, overtired.

Don't you wish you do it again...?

Anytime, that's your right...

Don't you wish you do it again...?

I bet you wish you do it again

Do it again...]

So for the following two Saturdays we met at the cinema. Petey faithfully coming along to watch the film and blag a bag of popcorn from us. Whilst he sat two seats away, Simon and I held hands in the dark, gently rubbed our knees together. We were easily thrilled by stolen pecks on the cheek and sly caresses across each other’s crotch under my leather jacket.

I wanted him so badly but, It was another week again before we managed to be alone together.

I consoled myself on late nights sitting in the dorm window with my walkman, listening to Joy Divison, and Depeche Mode. That year Simon’s dark looks, habit of wearing all black when out of School lead me into darker music, darker moods and darker places than I had ever considered.

The warm June that year meant more practical lessons in training and sports. I went to watch Simon run on the following Saturday morning in the paper chase through the woods. It may not have been built for Rugger or Boxing, but with his thin frame and long legs he was definitely built for running.

The hounds were made from the Junior and Senior whips. Being Head boy he was also head hound and was paired with Patrique. Who with his long dark skinned legs looked like a hungry panther when he ran, his normally soft face in hard consternation.

One of the foxes was ‘Teddy,’ who I too had started to boss around and called ‘dear little Teddy’ like Simon and Petey did. He ran with his blonde curls bouncing in his eyes and along with another junior trailed shredded paper through the woods as a scent trail for the ‘hounds’ to catch and ‘kill’ them.

Petey and I stood at the starting/finishing line and watched them leave, and then some twenty minutes later of shouting and jeering we could see Teddy and the other kid coming back, followed by Simon and Patrique. They were head and head, Simon’s arms and legs pumping in determination. He saw us both at the finish line and slowed, letting Patti run past the line to ‘kill’ his fox. He leapt on Teddy who shouted and screamed with laughter.

Panting heavily Simon walked leaden limbed towards us.

“Well done Wessex you silly bastard”. Petey slapped him on the back.

I frowned and made sure I stood a good few feet away from him…

“You let him win…why?” Simon now catching his breath back, hands resting on his knees he looked up at me smiling.

“Because dearest boy if I win…I have to attended the Sports Masters… Paper Chase Party this evening. I don’t want to go…I am saving my energy for…other things. “

With this he began to fake retching, as though he was going to be sick.

Petey joined in on the act…”Sir…” he said to the Master. I think Wessex isn’t feeling too good, say’s it’s a bad headache. Migraine I think.” The master nodded and suggested we take him back to his room. Petey hooked his arm in Simons and proceeded to gently walk him back to the Prefect’s corridor; as they passed Simon whispered to me.

“Nine O’ clock, don’t worry about booze or anything, Petey nicked something in the market”. They both giggled and left me standing looking both confused and slightly awe struck.

“Crafty bastards”…

I walked back to the Dorms with Teddy, who too apparently already knew of the plan. It had all been worked out between them. Patti and Vihaan were going to the party. Teddy and Micheal were going to go into town to some under eighteens disco and no doubt Teddy was going to be severely molested all the way home. Which I am sure he certainly wouldn’t complain about too much.

[You don't understand

This is a demand

And I think that I have to show you]

So it would just be…Me, Simon and Petey? I wondered how Petey felt about this. He was becoming the ultimate gooseberry. He and Simon had been friends throughout the whole of school. Maybe despite being straight as he claimed, perhaps Simon fascinated him the same way he did me? I wasn’t jealous as such, more slightly envious. They were like brothers.

Nine O’ clock came and I snuck out again, making it to the rooms earlier and clutching a large bag of crisps I had traded for a fag from the fat kid who slept three beds away.

I knocked on the door and Simon immediately opened it in his trademark black skinny jeans, barefoot, but without a top. I swallowed hard and stared.

“Simon, are you wearing…eye liner?”

He walked away and sat on the bed. I could hear Petey laughing from his place on the sofa where he was tuning in a small 7 inch black and white TV.

“I told him it looked stupid be he never listens to me.” He didn’t look up but waved me to sit down and take a beer.

I sat on the end of Simon’s bed and looked at him, really looked at him…With his high cheekbones, angular features, cold grey eyes, with makeup he could pass as a girl. I liked it. He looked like a fuckin’ rock star.

“I think he looks really…pretty”. Simon smiled approvingly and pointed at a beer for himself. Petey sighed.

“Oh dear Simon, one fuck and you have turned the boy into a love sick girl”. I threw the bag of crisps at his head.

Simon pulled a face cringing. Apparently, it appeared Petey had heard everything.

[Try to look inside

Take me for a ride

In the day and the night

Get to know you]

I tried to change the subject.

“What’s this you nicked then? Not the tele?” Si, turned to him and whistled. Petey pulled out a small brown bottle from his back pocket and threw it up at him. Si caught it one handed. I scooted up the bed and leant over to take a look. I could smell him now…he was wearing some kind of Indian oils, thick, heady like some exotic dancer.

I took the bottle from his hand and read the label. It looked well dodge.

“Liquid gold…What is it?” I went to open it and both, threw a hand up, to stop me. Simon quickly took it back off me.

“It’s Poppers, disco drugs, highs. Very popular amongst Gay men apparently” He giggled erratically “Amyl Nitrate. We haven’t opened it yet. Apparently, it makes you feel really ‘sexy’. We were going to have a sniff and watch some dreadful horror movie Petey’s trying to tune into unsuccessfully.”

Petey frowned and then smiled throwing himself on the bed beside me. He placed the tiny TV on a little table and showed us that it did actually have quite a good picture. Simon clapped and I patted Peteys back.

I looked at the bottle and Simons grinning face.

“So you ain’t tried this stuff before?”

“Nope”.

“What if it makes us ill?”

“What if it’s fucking amazing and we never find out?” He unscrewed the bottle and placed it to his nose and breathed it in for a few seconds and coughed hard, putting the top back on, his face coloured and his eyes wide, he stared at me.

“FUCK! It’s…like a painful head rush and then, my heart went fast and now I just feel…drunk. Here, don’t take as much as I did.”

I undid the bottle and sniffed the contents. It was just as he described. Really…fucking strange. Like my head was gonna explode and my heart raced. Then it settled and I felt kinda high. Petey took the least. He was quiet and looked a little confused for a while.

We sat in silence for a moment. Simon spoke quietly. “Get a saucer…and a little water.” He tipped the liquid into the water filled dish.

“It evaporates, let’s see what that does.” He sat back and snuggled into my arms. Petey took no notice and we sat, mellowed and a little dumbly watching the beginning of the film. After some time I realised I wasn’t really taking it in. I felt…different. Excited, aroused and like I wanted to fuck, I couldn’t describe it. Not out loud.

I noticed Petey had removed his glasses and was rubbing his eyes.

“Do you have a slight headache? Not bad but odd?”

He rubbed a hand down my thigh. Without saying anything I just looked at it. Simon made a whimpering noise and pushed a cold hand up my top. Then he slowly slipped it into my jeans, rubbing my hardening cock.

I giggled…

“Si…wotcha doin’?” He just laughed and bit his lip. Then looking at Petey before he moved again, he undid my fly.

Petey just sat there watching. Never said a word, just gently squeezed my leg.

“Shit. It’s that stuff. Fuck…”

I felt like I was a little invincible. I wanted Simon…badly. But I felt like I couldn’t really find the energy to move. I had never had a blow job…I had never even seen one in a porn mag. I watched his black ringed eyes now smudged and sexy as fuck as he bent to take me in his mouth. He had never done this before either, so it was clumsy and occasionally he grazed his teeth a little too hard. Petey murmured and rubbed at his own jeans.

Then I did it. I have no idea why, I just did. I leant over the freckled half Scandinavian and kissed him. My fingers fumbling at his flies I undid them. Simon moaned loudly as he pushed me into his throat gagging slightly and sucking hard at the head. My exploring fingers found Petey’s hard prick and freed it from his jeans. I gently tugged at the gingery blonde crinkled pubic hair, so different from Simon’s and my own. I started to wank him as I pushed my tongue in his mouth. He never protested or pulled away. He groaned, and thrust his hips up to push further into my palm. His kiss was not as hungry or confident as Simon’s but it was not unpleasant. I rubbed my thumbed over the end of his prick and noticed he was circumcised, so I paid more attention to the frenulum and teased it as much as possible without making him sore. Fisting hard I broke the kiss and with my arm behind his head we both watched Simon’s head bobbing as he sucked me.

I just felt so ‘sexual’, like this was the best thing in the world, and that I could now die happy. I groaned and turned to Petey again, looking in his pale eyes until he closed them and they fluttered. I could tell he was close. So was I. I panted and moaned and the noise must have set him off as he came on his stomach and t-shirt. I let go and lying back I waited for my own release, which came quickly.

[Boys meet boys get together

Boys meet boys live forever

Don't say no

Boys say go]

“Oh Simon” I came in his mouth and was surprised by the intensity of it, and the sensitivity, as he continued to suck, swallowing me down. When he had finished he collapsed on the bed next to me and giggled. His voice breaking…

“Fuck, what was that?”

Petey moved first.

Sitting up he put himself back in his jeans and held the spunk covered shirt away from his stomach. He spoke quietly, face red and embarrassed he stood up and picked up the saucer.

“I…I…think I should get rid of this…I’ll be in my room. I will see you tomorrow Simon…Moran…

With that he walked unsteadily to his adjoining door.

“Petey I am sorry…” I spoke after him but he ignored me and slammed the door shut.

[I can run away

If you never stay

and the rain and the pain and the sorrow]

“It’s okay, he’ll be okay. He was like this after he kissed me. Did you like it?” The question surprised me a bit.

“What? Oh, the blow job, yes…it was amazin’, very intense.”

“Good, I’m glad, I meant him too…”

“Oh, yes, I guess, it was different.” I was a little embarrassed myself and still felt really heady and horny.

Simon writhed on the bed and began to remove his jeans and boxers.

“Jesus Si, I can’t do it yet…” I giggled myself. “What about poor Petey? He’ll hear.”

Just then we heard the outer door slam, He must have cleaned himself off and gone out for a walk to calm down. Simon looked at me apologetically.

[I'm not very sure

when you close the door

if the end is the same as tomorrow]

“It’s okay…he is open minded. I think he’s kinda curious about things. I think...I confuse him sometimes. Do you know what I mean?”

“Sorry” Simon frowned at the word and pinched my leg.

“Stop sayin’ sorry for things that aren’t your fault Moran, you will never live your own life if you don’t.”

There was some truth in this, I felt like everything was my fault, the abuse, the reasons for moving schools, Dad dying, Mum being an alcoholic. I pulled my jeans and boxers off too, they were half off anyway.

“Give me a while…then maybe we can…y’know, If you want to?” With this Simon crawled over me and straddled me.

“Can I ask you some things Sebassstian?” I loved the way he hissed my name out.

“Yeah…anything” As long as it wasn’t about my childhood, or home, or Mum. Grinding his pelvis down onto my cock, it was already beginning to stir again.

“When we ‘did it’ the first time…you put your hand on my mouth. How did it make you feel?”

“I dunno, I wanted to shut you up, what do you mean?” Again he moved his hips to rub our tight curls together, and then he lightly pulled his finger nails across my hip bones.

“Ohhh, Si…”

“I meant, what did it make you feel…strong?”

“Yes, powerful…”

“…excited?”

“…Aroused…like I wanted to…”

“Hurt me?”

“No, I would never hurt you…” I frowned; I didn’t understand what he was trying to awaken in me. He obviously saw something even then that I didn’t.

“Moran you aren’t a bad person, you are angry, you need to channel it. Touch me…”

He took my hands and brought them up the flat of his stomach and chest slowly sliding across the skin, pimples rising and his tiny nipples shrinking into hard nubs. My cock was filling again, I knew he could feel it; he was pretty much sat on it.

“Take out the tube and put a lot inside me”…he closed his eyes and moaned as though this was part of the process of the preparation. I fiddled in the side drawer and found the lubricant, squeezed a good amount onto my fingers and leaning forward I slipped my hand between his legs and spread it over his hole before pushing two long fingers inside, I found my heart rate increasing and my breathing change as he whimpered and hissed at the intrusion. Did I really enjoy seeing the pain in his face? The way he cried when I had fucked him the first time? I scissored them a little and he pushed himself down onto them.

[Boys!

Boys!

Boys say go!]

“Simon…” He pulled off my fingers and quickly adjusting his position he held me gently before sitting down on me pushing me in deep into his gut. I was filling him. So deep, I hurt. I hissed and looked down disbelievingly.

“Yess…It hurts, it feels…wonderful” With this he lowered again and leaning forward he pulled himself a little way off me before swallowing me up again.

“Fuck…Simon”…I shifted my weight and put my heels on the bed and pushed up as he came down again, and again…and again….His spine twisting and his hips rolling he fucked me.

“Your hands Sebastian…use them”. I was unsure as to what he meant again so I wrapped one around his cock and began to pump him in time with the movements.

“My neck”… I frowned. His swan-like neck tilted back and exposed the Adams apple and thyroid bones to me. So beautiful. My free hand slid to his throat. I wrapped it around the thin column and began to squeeze. His head fell forward and with a salacious smile he began to bring his chest nearer mine. My hand fisting his cock, I pummelled into his arse using my knees to steady me. All the time my hand squeezing and releasing, sometimes so tight I could feel his body weaken…

“Sebb…assstian….” He hissed again as he came in my hand. I had to let go and both my hands moving to his hips I thrust a few more times before cumming hard. My head splitting, my back arching and my eyes now painful from the lights beneath the lids.

“Simon…”

He collapsed on my chest.

We were quiet for a long time before he spoke.

“Do you understand now…it’s about the power, the control?” I think I did. I think I really did understand.

“Yes.”

I was returned to my room as always. Simon went looking for Petey and that night I fell into a nightmare free, even dreamless sleep.

[The cleanest I've been

An end to the tears

And the in-between years

And the troubles I've seen]

****

The following day was Sunday which meant morning mass and homework, lots of it. I was tired and looking shattered after such a strange evening of experimental drugs and sex. I was not expecting a hand on my shoulder as I left the chapel. It was Harry Nickel, one of the senior whips.

“Moran, The Captain wants to see you in his office. “ He sneered at me and I sneered back staring at his hand in a silent threat to remove it before I did.

He did and smugly walked away.

Shit, had Petey told on us? No. Why would he, he cared about Simon, possibly even loved him. Had someone seen me sneaking back in the night? Why the fuck? Oh, I know…I was gonna get the ‘How are you Sebastian after your father dying talk? Doing okay in your lessons? Blah, blah, blah…

Actually I quite liked the Head; he was kind to me, even when I had been a bit of a handful when I first arrived. He encouraged me, mainly with my sports, and Military studies when my written work had began to slide when Dad…

I knocked on the door, and instead of a shout of ‘enter’ the door opened and a very smart, well rested smiling Simon Wessex stood smirking at me.

“Ahh come in Moran”.

I walked in, saluted at them both and stood next to Simon, my eyes looking straight at Captain Montague-Harris. A regal looking man with a Prince Albert moustache, and a pair of sapphire blue eyes, under a shock of bright white hair. This made him look older than he was; I guessed he was only in his forties. He rose from his seat and shook my hand. I raised my eyebrows and nervously coughed.

“Sir?” He sat down and smiled at Simon.

“Wessex here tells me you have forged a bit of a friendship due to your similar circumstances with the passing of your fathers. Wessex says you are trying to improve your work and would like to do some extra field work to help with this.

I had no clue what the fuck he was talking about…

“Yes Sir, field work Sir. I am a good shot Sir and am interested in survival techniques.”

“Yes, Wessex says, you’ve been showing an interest in his medical duties. Perhaps you could help each other. Simon…Wessex says he would like to volunteer as your Mentor…and if you are willing to stay over the Summer Holidays your could take some more work on. It might help with emotionally too. Strong men need strong minds.

I chanced a glance at Simon who was smiling innocently.

[Crafty bastard]

“Yes Sir, I would like that Sir, especially to improve my shooting”.

“Right, then it’s done. Congratulations then boys, shake hands”

We turned to each other and shook hands firmly. The Captain, laughed lightly.

“Dismissed.”

In sync we both saluted him and left the room. Out in the corridor I pulled Simon to one side, laughing.

“You shit, this nearly gave me a heart attack. ‘Ow the fuck do you get away with this shit?” He laughed and shrugged.

“Happy though Sebastian? A whole summer together.” The thought was too much…a whole summer.

“We will actually have to do some work though.” I frowned.

“Yes, but I have some plans. You know how the Ancient Greek Kings used to set their ‘Heroes’ tasks? Well, I shall set you a series of tasks…Oh, don’t worry…you will enjoy this. “

He pulled out a field guide to Moths, Butterflies and Insects. “Start with this…open it.” Confused I did…inside was a small black and white badly photocopied book. I read the title aloud…

“’The story of O’ what’s that when it’s at home?” Simon quickly closed the book and pushed it inside my blazer.

“Hide it you idiot, it was a banned book at one time. Read it, enjoy it, tell me what you think. Tell me how it makes you feel…then come and see me in my room.” His eyes were wild and hungry.

“It’s one of your first task’s…the discovery of new things. “ With that he looked around then quickly pecked my cheek before walking away.

I waited till I got to the boys bathroom and opened the book again…

The first thing I read made me cough. Sitting there on the toilet lid I felt my face burn I was sure someone would see…

/Another thing: at night you will have only your lips with which to honor us - and your wide-spread thighs - for your hands will be tied behind your back and you will be naked, as you were a short while ago. You will be blindfolded only to be maltreated and, now that you have seen how you are whipped, to be flogged./

What the fuck was this?

/” Read it, enjoy it, tell me what you think. Tell me how it makes you feel…then come and see me in my room.”/

 

[It's a lot like life

This play between the sheets

With you on top and me underneath

Forget all about equality]

I was beginning to understand what all these lyrics really meant…it was an introduction to a different world.

I liked it.

*****

 


	6. Sweet Dreams (who taught you to torture?).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 6: Sweet Dreams (who taught you to torture?).
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, increasing BDSM. Some drug taking....
> 
> Music: The Eurythmics and Adam Ant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

It was another two weeks before I plucked up courage to get a note to Simon. I passed it to dearest little Teddy at breakfast. Fast and secretive he slid passed Simon and pushed it into his pocket, looking up at him with innocent blue eyes which hid so many sordid little secrets.

I saw Simon glance at me, a little devilish smile tweakin' at the corner of his mouth as he fingered the paper in his pocket, as though he were trying to read it through the pads of his long fingers.

/” Read it, enjoy it, tell me what you think. Tell me how it makes you feel…then come and see me in my room.”/

The note was simple enough...though only he would understand it if it were found...

"I read it, enjoyed it. I makes me want visit Roissy.

(Signed)

Sir Stephen."

I had no fuckin' clue what he wanted...The book was...like nothin' I 'ad ever read. No one talked about this sort of shit where I came from. Lads learnt about sex by nickin' their Dad's Jazz mags and rummagin' in their Mum's knicker drawers and starin' at the ladyfingers and Johnnies they found there.

[Sweet dreams are made of this...

Who am I to disagree...

I travel the world and the seven seas...

Everybody's looking for something]

This was about unconditional love, dominance and submission. Half the words I had never even heard of...I found myself doodling triskelion's on my papers in class and I would carry the bloody thing with me inside a hidden pocket of my pajama top. Waking in the night, every fuckin' night, so I could read it and wank in the toilets undisturbed. Draggin' my nails across my skin, squeezin' my own throat...pretending it was Simon's.

Fuck. What was he doin' to me?

 

[Some of them want to use you...

Some of them want to get used by you...

Some of them want to abuse you...

Some of them want to be abused]

I listened to this and couldn't understand. I was abused. What did it mean?

I 'ad spent the past three years buildin' up this wall around my own pain and sufferin' so no one would find out. He was picking at the mortar now, lettin' it dribble out...coaxing it, turning it into something else.

I was beginnin' to imitate him. I 'ad written to Mum for some black jeans, but she 'ad not replied. Just sent money for them. I wrote to Auntie Ange and a black baggy crocheted jumper and a pair of black and blue brothel creepers appeared three weeks later. It was like bloody Christmas. There was no way I was wearin' any bloody eyeliner, but I looked alrigh', least I hoped Si thought I did.

I knocked the code on the door nervously. I had stuffed my rucksack full to burstin' with the clothes and changed in the Perfects toilets at the end of Si's corridor. I brushed my fringe down over one eye and tried desperately to look moody but I couldn't keep it up when Si opened the door, half still talkin' to Petey in the background....

He was in a white vest top, strangely it reminded me of one of my boxin' ones...and his black jeans...as he turned his eyes grew wide and he began to laugh...not in a malicious way, more shock.

"Fuck me Moran...."

"I was 'opin' you might say that..." I looked over his shoulder at Petey. He had barely acknowledged me since the incident with the Amyl Nitrate...I wasn't embarrassed for myself, more for him. He felt awkward. He and Simon had been friends for years then I turn up, take his attention away and what? We force him to be like us? No...he was curious, and I guess it scared him.

I walked into the room and immediately Petey stood and looked at the floor, trying not to meet my eyes.

"I guess I had better go then Simon?" I moved to touch his shoulder, his eyes just lookin' at it, maybe willing it to go.

Simon sat down on his bed, his eyes travellin' between the two of us, gaugin' the tension. I frowned, I know I was younger than the pair of them but I felt older sometimes, more experienced. So I showed no fear when I spoke to him again.

“Petey, please don’t. I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean t'make you feel uncomfortable.” He raised his face to mine and adjusted his glasses.

"It’s not you…I’m sorry. It…I…It’s okay honestly. Let’s just not…mention it please." I nodded and lightly rubbed the shoulder before awkwardly removing my hand.

“Please stay for a bit.“ I looked at him pleadingly and slowly he smiled, relented and sat on the sofa taking up a beer and one of Simon’s medical books, he began to make small talk about films. It was like a normal evening, for a while. At 10pm, Petey started to doze on the sofa, Simon gently nudged him with a bare foot…which I found strangely erotic…his long thin feet and stretched long legs…

I could feel the gnawin' comin' in the pit of my stomach.

I was gettin' hungry…

…But not for food.

He got up and playfully punched me in the arm.

"Night Moran, don’t make too much noise eh? I will sleep with my headphones on."

 

Simon walked him to the adjoining door, talked a bit about the next day and then he gently shut it.

I sat on the sofa, pullin' off the jumper and tatty T shirt underneath. I was no longer self conscious about my body; I just wanted to feel his skin on mine again.

[When I met you, you were just sixteen...

Pulling the wings off the flies...

When an old lady got hit by a truck I saw the wicked gleam in your eyes]

He walked behind me bendin' over the back of the sofa. Slidin' his arms around my shoulders his fingers brushed my nipples making me shiver. As he gently kissed my neck he whispered in my ear.

“So did you come to punish me?” I sighed at the heat of his breath on my face.

“That is what you want isn’t it? It’s why you gave me the book.” Quickly, I turned to look up at him and he followed my gaze walking around to stand in front of me. As he did so, he removed his vest and began to slowly undo his flies. I watched with heavy eyes. He was so fuckin’ manipulative.

 

[Your sadistic suits my masochistic There's a whip in my valise, oh yeah]

 

I whispered hoarsely “Simon, do you know what you are doin’? Where did you learn all this stuff?” He laughed as he let his trousers drop and stood naked, slowly strokin' his hardenin' prick.

“Let’s just say when my father died I inherited a very mixed library of books. He had…certain interests. Stay there, but pull off your trousers.” I eagerly did so and sat back down on the sofa, starkers.

He knelt in front of me and at first I thought he was goin’ to suck me again but instead he took both my hands turnin' them over.

“Two objects, one task.” I frown at the words and remember what he had said about the ‘tasks’.

“Simon, I am far from a Greek fuckin’ Demi God. What is it you want me to do?” A broad grin spread across his face and a hand slipped under the sofa, I heard something move but his hand was empty when it returned to my leg.

 

[Who taught you to torture?

Who taught ya? Who taught you to torture?

Who taught ya? Who taught you to torture?

Who taught ya? Who taught you?]

“Were you ever punished as a child Sebastian? Smacked? Or at School…were you caned?” I nodded.

“Of course. Mum hit me a lot though I know she loved me and well...My old school still caned. I got it on my hands mainly, once on my arse. Why?”

He kissed both my boney hairy knees gently, a small spark of energy ran up my inner thighs and my cock twitched.

“I wasn’t, ever. It’s why I am such a spoilt brat and head boy.”

With this he stood and kneelin' on the sofa beside me he lay his body across my lap. He carefully positioned himself so his prick was between my legs, his smooth white arse in the air. My hands involuntarily started to roam over the fleshly orbs of his cheeks. Nails scratchin' up his lightly haired thighs. He groaned and as he did he pushed his cock between my thighs.

[Describe the special punishment room...

Over my garage

There's a whipping post, a vertical beam...

You have to be in charge]

“Jesus Simon…what? What do I do?”

“Your hands Sebastian…You read the book...Punish me”.

I thought back to the scenes of ‘O’ being spanked and flogged by the women at Roissy. I didn’t need any more encouragement. His waist pressed against my erection and his own rubbin' between my thighs I brought my hand down hard on his cheeks. It stung. My palm tinglin' from the effort. As pulled away there was a white hand print which quickly turned to scarlet as the blood rushed back to the surface. He hissed and quietly spoke one word…

“Again”

I did.

“Again”

And

“Again”

 

My hand was hot with searing pain and his backside a fiery red. He moaned and pushed against me. Suddenly he abruptly said…

“Stop”.

I was confused but he leant down under the sofa and pulled out a long, bent with use…school cane; probably stolen from one of the Master’s office’s.

[I payed a packet for a new straight jacket...

There's a whip in my valise, oh yeah]

“You are ‘avin’ a larf ain’cha?” He sighed and pushed his arse up further so he could tuck his bollocks forward, lying them on my thigh.

“No. I’m not laughing. I want you to make me cry.” I took the cane in one hand and swished it through the air. I remember that sound alright. I had no clue what I was doin’ then about warmin’ them up and all that.

 

[Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

...Who taught you?]

“But Simon...it will ‘urt?” He lowered his head and panted.

“Yess…I…know…do it, Pleeasse…”

 

I closed my eyes at first, raised the bamboo above my head. The other hand on the back of his neck I brought it down with a whip across his already sore cheeks. He made a strange gruntin' noise and he writhed in my lap.

I brought my thighs tighter together around his prick.

“Harder”

I did it

“Harder”

And even

“Harder”

Until he was whimperin’ and fuckin’ his prick into my thighs…

[You put my head into the stocks...

And then you, you went to choose a cane...

But hey, your cat has got nine tails...

You like to leave me lame]

There were red raises welts across his skin and one bled, the blood wellin' in little red beads along the long red stripe of the hardest strike. He was near to coming. I was so hard…I threw the cane to the floor and sucked my fingers before runnin' them between the damaged cheeks and pushin' two inside him. As I did he bucked again and came onto the edge and front of the sofa. Groanin' and wrigglin’ like some violent worm.

“God, Simon…I…” I had no need to say anymore. He pulled himself off my lap, kneelin' between my legs and suckin' me frantically into his mouth. It was only then I saw his face. Tears streamin' down his cheeks, eyes red. I pushed the hair out of his eyes and watched him intently as he quickly brought me to orgasm. As I filled his throat I grasped his hair and pulled myself forward.

This was power. This was control. This was what I needed.

He had given it to me, and in turn he had the power and control to destroy me with one look from those eyes.

We were…silent, stunned, sore. He curled up into my lap and I rocked him gently, we kissed tenderly and held each other close.

A little child like voice came from him.

“Thank you”…I kissed his tears away…

“No Simon, Thank you.”

 

[I can't thank her, my Sunday spanker...

There's a whip in my valise, oh yeah]

I wasn’t sure how long we sat there it could ‘ave only been ten minutes. Slowly he rose off me and we went about ‘tidyin'’ up. He wiped away the mess from the sofa. I hid the cane, though I did not wipe the little stain of blood away. He used some kinda antiseptic wipes on the welts and I sat and watched him. I wished I ‘ad a camera to take a picture. He was like some martyred saint to me.

Then…there was a loud knock on the door. Not one of us. No code. It sounded more like a Whip carrying a walkin' cane. We looked at each other in panic. Simon winced as he pulled on some pajama bottoms and ushered me to pick up my clothes and pointed at Petey’s door. I quickly tapped gently on it. Fuck I hope he was awake. I tried the handle it was open so I let myself in. He was awake. Though he looked flustered, his Walkman and headphones lyin' on his stomach. He sat bolt upright, took one look at me naked and panicked.

‘What the Fuck Moran?’ I waved him quiet and whispered walkin' to the side of the bed.

“One of the Whips just knocked on the door. I’ve come to hide.” He rolled his eyes and whispered back.

“Get under the bed…”

I rolled under it, takin' my clothes and ruck sack with me.

There was nothing under there but a small bin. I tipped it up nosily and frowned at the large number of tissues in it and laughed.

“Petey you durty bastard…” I waved a cum covered tissue up at him. He leaned over the bed and whispered.

“Fuck off Moran, it’s your fault” He giggled. I threw the tissue back in the bin and held a hand up to him. He took it and held it whilst we listened in the half light to the conversation next door, waitin' for it to end. It sounded as though the Whip had walked along the corridor and heard something.

I felt close to him for some reason. We shared Simon in a way and in a way Simon was sharin' us. I think he just needed some comfort. We all did when we rarely saw family. Some of us like Patrique weren’t even wanted by our families. Friendships were ‘special’.

Simon was makin' excuses about his music and fallin' asleep with it on too loud. It sounded like the Whip was buyin' it and seein’ as they were technically out ranked by him there was little they could do.

Once it was quiet I crawled out from under the bed and started to dress. Petey watched me and I looked away a little embarrassed. Once I was ready he stood up and went to the door to look out to see if anyone was still in the next room. I walked to his side and before he could open the door I don’t know why, but I kissed him. Not passionately, but gently and comforting. He stared wide eyed at me, said nothing at first but then touched my face and whispered.

“I don’t understand you Moran.”

He poked his head out the door and Simon ushered us in.

We said our goodbyes and decided leavin' via Petey’s room was best. Simon kissed me hard at the door and I very nearly crumbled into dust. Petey watched me over his shoulder. I ‘ave no idea to this day whether Petey told Si I kissed him again. He never mentioned it the next time I saw him...One week before the Summer holidays. One week before getting’ Si to myself for the whole Summer.

Before then ‘owever…another task was to be given.

I had no idea what was comin’ next.

It was thrillin’, excitin’ and dangerous.

I couldn't wait.

[Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

Who taught you to torture? Who taught ya?

... Who taught you?]

*****

 


	7. Perfect Day? (I’m sticking with you).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 7: Perfect Day? (I’m sticking with you).
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, increasing BDSM. Class A Drug use....
> 
> Music: Perfect Day Lou Reed, I’m sticking with you, Velvet Underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

The last week of School before the Summer consisted of many things...Finishing off the mounds coursework, doing my field work test and more importantly...getting ready for the holidays.

Petey would be around still for the first two weeks. His father a Danish politician who be coming to the UK for a conference in the second week. He was to collect him and take him to various visits on his Summer tour of Europe. I wasn’t sure if he was lucky or repressed. So we tried to spend as much time as we could with him before he left.

[Just a perfect day

Drink Sangria in the park

And then later

When it gets dark, we go home]

The last day of School everyone was givin’ free reign in the afternoon. Most chose to go to the cinema, into town or head off on the train to Southend. Others just left early, being picked up by parents, guardians or ‘the staff’. We chose to go where we would be alone, and free. The woods, neighbourin' the School grounds. The rear of the woods was dense, with stream running through it pooling in a pond in a clearing. That’s where you would usually find us.

[Just a perfect day

Feed animals in the zoo

Then later

A movie, too, and then home]

Petey was to meet us at 1500 hours...So when Simon said he had something for me and we were to meet by the burnt oak at 1400 hours I knew he was up to something.

The burnt oak was just that. A beautiful four hundred year old oak tree standing alone from the other trees, shading part of the pond with its branches. It had been struck by lightning a few years before and had nearly set alight to the whole wood. One side of is remained black...the other side remained alive and was home to green woodpeckers and a few squirrels. Underneath the tree the three of us had moved a large dead branch to make a slightly uncomfortable but useful seat.

[Oh, it's such a perfect day

I'm glad I spent it with you

Oh, such a perfect day

You just keep me hanging on

You just keep me hanging on]

I sat on the branch, smoking a roll up and looking up into the tree, when something hit me on the leg.

“Ow, fuck what was...” I looked down it was a small pebble and had been aimed very accurately to hit my thin lanky legs. I was glad to be wearing jeans. I looked about, couldn’t see anyfin’ at first...it was dark amongst the trees...then a tall thin figure clad in black stepped forward ushering me with one hand, he seemed to be carrying something else in the other.

“Simon?” I knew it could only be him...I walked slowly across the clearing following him into the trees as he walked further in.

“Simon” I whispered. He jumped me from behind looped a long length of rope over my head pulling me backwards. I fell to the ground and landed on him. Stupid bastard was laughing hysterically.

“Simon...what the fuck are you doin’, trynna kill me?”

“Taking you prisoner soldier” Grinning he un-looped the rope from my neck and lent over me kissing me quickly on the lips. As he stood he unraveled the rope and dropped something into the ground with a thud beside me. The knife stood upright in the thick woodland floor. Even though he was silhouetted against the mottled light of the trees, I could tell he was smiling.

“Want to play prisoners Sebastian?” His patronising yet playful manner combined with a slightly ridiculous giggle always got me. I quickly moved and tackled him to the floor taking the knife from the ground I held it to his throat. He was taken by surprise. I could see his face clearly now and his eyes were wide with shock.

“Shit, Sebastian...You really are going to do this for real one day. Fuck...you are scary /now/...Kiss me.” I grinned. I was gettin’ used to these games. I was learning the rules.

“No”...Instead of looking hurt he smirked at me. So I twisted the muddied four inch blade of the hunting knife into his neck. “Don’t laugh at me you little….”I was trynna fink of a word…I thought of what my Dad always called my Mum when they fought.”You little bitch.” His eyes bloomed with a firey want. I was gettin’ the hang of bein’ a bastard.

“Get up, and back up against the tree.” I slowly removed the knife and took the rope from the ground. He obliged of course...after all, this was what he wanted...another task for me. He knew I would not disappoint. I did not feel fourteen, I felt powerful and hungry.

I had no clue what I was doing but I gave to orders just the same. Simon was thin and so was the young sycamore he back against. All he wore was a cure t-shirt and black skin tight jeans...black Doc Martins at his feet.

“Hands down beside you Wessex. “Shit, where was this voice coming from. It seemed so natural. I wanted to regain control. He was my weapon...he was beautiful.

I bound him to the tree, first his shoulders then his waist. I kept the knife at his thyroid and staring into his green grey eyes…my other hand cupping his crotch before un-popping the button of his fly. I ran a nail up the zip and then quickly dragged it open freeing his hard cock. He sighed as the cool air of the shaded wood hit his skin.

Silently I stroked him, the blade nicking at his neck; I drew it down his chest and up under his t-shirt, he sucked his stomach in as the metal slid over him. Working quicker at his cock I rubbed my thumb over his head. My face close to his I could feel his breath on my face though I made no attempt to kiss him. I brought the flat of the blade down the length of his prick and as he looked down to watch I brought it back under his chin.

“Stay fucking still or I will cut it off.” He visibly swallowed and whimpered, suddenly cumming onto the dark leafy ground. I wasn’t expected it to be quite so quick.

“God Moran that was so…fuckinguntiemenow...” His voice was urgent…I quickly cut the rope and it fell away. Without even stepping out of it he fell to his knees and undid my jeans…frantically freeing me and taking me in his mouth…

“Simon…Oh…” The knife still in my hand at his shoulder he sucked me enthusiastically and hard. “I...Oh shit…” A shadow behind a tree moved and a figure appeared. Simon barely stalled and continued…

“Oh shit…I don’t want to…you are unbelievable I could have been any…Oh sod it…I’ll be over here then.”

Petey, stood with a pair of binoculars around his neck and a rucksack on his back. He turned and dropped to the ground ignoring us, edging forward on his elbows and knees combat style and began looking out across the clearing.

Simon just carried on, taking me deep into his throat; I couldn’t hold on any longer and came. We quietly kissed wiped ourselves with pocket tissues and whispered soft words to each other, before turning to join Petey.

We dropped down beside him…

 

[Just a perfect day

Problems all left alone

Weekenders on our own

It's such fun]

 

“Shush you two…look…what do you think these two are doing…Ever seen them before.” He had peaked my interest and I took the binoculars from him. On the other side of the clearing sitting on the branch under the burnt oak there were two lads around the same age as us, passing something between them. A glint of silver reflected the sunlight into the lens and I pulled them away.

“Drugs...Definitely not Dukies…not with them haircuts” I passed the glasses to Simon who led flat to the ground almost invisible in the grass.

“Holy shit…look who it is…” Out from across the field came an irate Nicholas ‘Tugger’ Jeankins. The creepy, lecherous Math master. He wasn’t that old maybe in his late twenties, with blonde receding hair and a thin pointed face. He must have thought the boys might be Dukies or had just realised what they were there for. He began shouting at them. As soon as they saw him they began to leg it back towards the stile at the far fence with him pursuing them. Simon frowned and passed the binoculars back to Petey again.

“They dropped it…” and before we could say dropped what? Simon was on his feet and streaking across the grass, long legs propelling him. He halted with a squeak of his boots, picked something from the floor and ran back towards the trees where we led open mouthed. We were both a little angry and in awe.

“Simon, what the ‘ell are you doin?’”. He ran on past us into the trees beckoning us. As always Petey followed him and so did I.

He crouched in a darker area of the wood and began to unwrap something. Curious we both crouched beside him. He held a small dark brown round rock like lump in his hand. Petey frowned at me as if I had all the answers.

“What is it?” I took it from Simon, sniffed it and rolled it in my fingers. Well it ain’t dope. I reckon its smack in’it…

Petey’s face dropped. “But isn’t that a brown powder? I though you inject that stuff? Simon looked up and took the rock back rewrappin' it in its cling film.

“No...You can smoke it, that’s what the silver was…, tin foil. We should give it a go…”

I rolled my eyes.

“Simon are you fuckin’ jokin’?

“No, it’s not as strong as injecting it and if we shared it won’t be as bad. Fuck it Sebastian. I thought you wanted to try everything…De Sade was all for drugs of every kind.

Petey sighed…”Yes Simon, so was Alistair Crowley and he and de Sade were both insane.”

Simon smirked…”Yes, but we aren’t. I am a medic; I know what I am doing. Moran will look after you…”

There was a strange look between them that I didn’t understand. I was pretty sure they had been talking about me.

 

[What’s that meant to mean?]

“Got any foil? I directed to Petey. He liked his food and always had something in his bag. He sighed again heavily, opened his bag and took out some cheese sandwiches. We unwrapped them and shared them between us. My mouth full I started to flatten the foil out.

“Pen?” Simon pulled a biro from his back pocket and I took it apart. His eyes were wide and curious…

“How do you know how to do this Sebastian?”

“I come from East London…what do you fink?”

I was a said state of affairs, Heroin was big then, it was the answer to the jobless and the sad lost generation of the Thatcher years.

Petey looked panicked. “I’m not…sure I can do this…”

Simon rubbed his back “I won’t make you…you won’t be an addicted Petey…not like this. It’s only once.”

Persuasive asshole Simon…If he had asked Petey to jump from the top of Dukies in that tone of voice, Petey would have probably done it.

There was very little breeze. But just in case I asked Petey to take out his pac-a-mac from inside his bag, and hold it up around us.

I heated he foil up shiny side down; I’d seen some of the Twins older mates do this on the council dump when we were rummaging for copper.

“Who wants a go first then…Simon?” He nodded.

“What do I have to do?” I sighed and handed him the pen tube as a make shift toot.

“Put that in your mouth. You heat up the underneath with the lighter, keep the brown moving around and suck up the smoke. It’s pretty instant apparently.” He looked worried and edgy. I look back know and realise he was just reckless, he just wanted to escape his normal life and background. He was a rough kid born with a silver spoon. He was bored, and maybe a little nuts.

He did as I told him, and Petey holding up the jacket, hid the gear from view and shielded us from any breeze. I watched his eyes and the vapours started to hit him. They drooped a bit and a small slow smile spread across his face.

“Oh fuck…Try it…” He handed me the pen case and foil. It was a strange soporific sensation, not a complete euphoria but a floating, sinking feeling into something nice…like after sex glow. I felt a little drowsy and mellow.

“Petey? I’ll do the work you just toot on it…” He looked at the pair of us and handed Simon the jacket. Took the pen and chased the vapours around as I moved the foil and lighter.

[Just a perfect day

You made me forget myself

I thought I was

Someone else, someone good]

We continued for half an hour or thereabouts till it was gone. The three of us sat in silence, looking at each other’s faces. Everything seeming different. The freckles of Petey’s face and the arch of Simons brows were fascinating, stunning…I wanted to touch them. We nodded a little, listens to the birds…I guess this was its peak and the silence enhanced the whole experience. Petey was the first to nod out. He put down the jacket and rested his head back on it. Simon and I followed. Our hair touching as we led together, ‘Petey’ Pederson in the middle, me on his right, Simon at his left. I picked up Petey’s hand and held it. Simon reached over him and stroked his fingers along our joined digits. He rested his head on his chest, listening to his heart.

[Oh, it's such a perfect day

I'm glad I spent it with you

Oh, such a perfect day

You just keep me hanging on

You just keep me hanging on]

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I was enjoying the intensity of the feeling of touch; just being next to the two of them. We whispered out thoughts to each other as we looked up into the woods canopy. The afternoon sun was changing the colour of the light through the leaves on the trees; golden and copper hues dappling our skin. I played with Petey’s strawberry blonde hair and Simon removed his glasses from his face. He suddenly sat up and straddled the other boys legs…Petey spoke but his protests were weak and slow.

“Simon...what /are/ you doin? Stop…” He smiled and closed his eyes… Simon undid his trousers and before I could say anything he was already sucking him off. I couldn’t help but laugh…

“You are such a slut Simon…poor Petey…”

“Yes, poor…urgh…poor Petey.” Petey repeated. Sighing and moaning with each movement. I raised myself onto my elbow and watched, my hand rubbing across the Danes slightly paunched stomach. As he came his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he dug his nails into my arm.

He was quiet then and slowly started to go to sleep. Simon had other ideas…He stood up, walked to a tree, took a piss then removed all his clothes, ran out into the clearing and streaked around naked whooping for a good six minutes or so. Petey frowned at the noise and rolled onto his front.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I laughed and pecked his cheek…

“I have no clue…he wants to be a Doctor…look at him”…Simon proceeded to waggle his cock at us and laugh.

“He...Is…fucking crazy…” We laughed and turned to the sky again as Simon came back to us. Plonked himself beside me and flopped back onto the grass.

“You are nuts”.

“I know” he said panting “runs in the family”. I leant up on my elbows again and noticed a dark shape in the trees some 100 metres away.

“Fuck, there is someone there…” Both boys immediately sobered up a bit. Looking towards where I had indicated. Petey turned to Simon.

“Get your clothes on you idiot.” Still high he fell around trying to dress. I thought back to earlier in the day…

“D’you fink it was ‘Tugger’ again?” Petey’s face dropped at the thought that anyone let alone he had seen Simon sucking him off.

“No Sebastian please don’t say that. Can you imagine what would happen to my father if a scandal got out about me? I’ve not even a poof for heavens sake.”

“Whatever you say Pederson…” I winked at him knowingly ”Simon is the one in the shit, he’s the culprit and he was starkers.” Simon laughed and fell to his knees next to us.

“It’s getting late; we need to go back anyway…” He gave me a hand to get up and we dragged Petey up after. He immediately went very pale.

“You okay?” He shook his head and turned vomiting onto the floor.

 

[You're going to reap just what you sow

You're going to reap just what you sow

You're going to reap just what you sow

You're going to reap just what you sow]

I rubbed his back and Simon picked up his rucksack and the jacket. I buried the pen and the foil in the dirt and the three of us, tired and slightly unsteady started the long walk back to the school. Simon carried Petey's stuff and I held his arm. After some time we all realised he was always affected more by any of the shit we experimented with than us. I felt guilty. I stopped him and crouched in front of him. Silently he climbed onto my back and I carried him the rest of the way.

We were reflective and quiet. We were growing up too fast. Me in particular. We all knew this was probably the last time we would be together like this. They both had final exams the following summer. This had to be /our/ summer, our coming of age movie…

Petey held his arms around my shoulders, despite me being younger, I was far better built and stronger. He didn’t seem to weigh too much even if he looked a little pudgy. Totally out of his character he began to sing one of Simon’s favourite songs in my ear.

“I'm sticking with you, 'cos I'm made out of glue. Anything that you might do, I'm gonna do too”

We began to join in laughing…Simon trying to do a baritone made it even funnier….

(Together) “You held up a stage coach in the rain…

(In the rain…) And I'm doing the same, Saw you were hanging from a tree…

(From a tree) And I made believe it was me.

By the time we reached the school gates, Petey was a bit better. All three of us didn’t look as high.

We went to Simons room…smoked some dope, ate copious amounts of chocolate and whilst Simon and I fucked. Petey led on the sofa quietly watching; no longer jealous or embarrassed.

We were three now.

At least for the next two weeks…then it would be /our/ time…and who knows what that time would bring.

[But with you by my side I can do anything

When we swing

We hang past right or wrong

I'll do anything for you

Anything you want me too

I'll do anything for you]

******

 


	8. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'  
> Part 8: The Promise  
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.  
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, increasing BDSM. Some drug taking....  
> Music: The Promise - When in Rome 1988  
> Warning for 'hunting'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

The last week with Petey was much the same as normal. The weather was changin’ and the light breezes were becomin’ warmer. We spent time on the school grounds as we were allowed to swim in the pool. There was maybe only another fifty or so kids still on site so it was refreshin’ to be able to wander together and often not bump into anyone for hours. We didn't go back to the Burnt Oak that week because we were worried the smackhead kids would come after us, or Jeankins had seen us smoking their stash.

The prefects that were still about didn't really give a shit, so I slept a few nights in Simons room. Wakin’ up with the warm rays of the sun strokin’ my forehead awake through the window.

When Petey had to say goodbye, we walked him to his fathers car and helped him put his trunk and bags in the boot. His father was just a thirty something version of Petey. A little slimmer with tighter cropped hair, a slightly pointed nose and more expensive glasses. Simon nudged me and giggled, poor Petey rolled his eyes in disgust. His father gave us a twenny pound note each and told us to enjoy the Summer. Simon didn’t need it, but twenny quid to me was like a months worth of spending money. We waved them off and Simon cheekily blew Petey a kiss through the back window to which he received a two finger salute.

Walkin’ back to the main buildin’ with our hands in our jeans, mine grippin’ the money tight; we talked about what stuff we needed to take for our ‘field trip’. we decided that we could use the trip as both a holiday and to actually get some extra work done. Si could ‘elp me with my sciences and maths and I could ‘elp him with his art project, writing and field studies.

The sun was in my eyes so I put on my mirror aviators and turned to Simon who laughed…

“You look like you should be in a Tom Cruise film…” He screwed up his nose and squinted at the sun, then pulled out a pair of real Ray Bans.

“Show off...I can’t believe you flirted with Petey’s Dad...He’s a politician isn’t he?” Simon just smirked and walking closer together I felt his fingertips gently hold on to mine. It wasn’t hand holdin’. That was too risky, but the contact felt nice, secretive and special.

 

[If you need a friend

Don't look to a stranger

You know in the end, I'll always be there

But when you're in doubt

And when you're in danger

Take a look all around, and I'll be there]

“All that power...it’s sexy isn’t it. Anyway, I have another surprise for you...C’mon”. With that he broke into a run. He knew, despite my long legs I could still not catch up with him, he was too fast.

I chased him as far as the main doors where we both collapsed on the steps for a few moments, breathing hard and tryin’ to catch our breath.

Through the corridors we went until we came to the ‘lost property room’. It wasn’t so much lost property as in ‘confiscated items’. Simon took out his prefects keys that he had copied after ‘borrowing’ them from a prefect in his year. the room was small but packed from ceilin’ to floor with things confiscated or lost, odd shoes, cricket bats, magazines, some innocent comics, some Jazz mags. What ever you could possibly think of...it was there. Simon, searched the back right corner of the room and from behind an old dresser he pulled out a long bag and placed it on the table. Looking at me smugly he encouraged me to open it.

“Go on then Moran...open it boy…” I hated it when he called me Moran, but he only did it teasingly. I called him much worse when we were alone together.

I unzipped the length of the bag and flipped over the material. Inside was a brand new Theoban Sirroco 22 Air Rifle. It’s polished stock and body looking like mahogany in the warm summer light from the windows.

“Fuck Simon, this isn’t one of the Schools...it’s beautiful. “ He giggled at my enthusiasm, ran a finger along the barrel and whispered into my face.

“It’s yours...at least for two weeks…” I picked up the gun and checked it over, feelin’ the weight and lookin’ down the sights towards the window.

“It’s got pellets? How? Why?...” He walked around the table and stood next to me.

“I am not spending two weeks fiddling with traps trying to catch our lunch. Another challenge for you...Kill something for me…” He smirked and licked his lips.

It wasn’t the first time I ‘ad killed anythin’ and I ‘ad a gun at home my Pops ‘ad givin’ me. Me and my cousins ‘ad picked off rabbits, and one or two cats that had been annoying Auntie Ange by shittin’ in her flowers in her backyard.

“You are fuckin’ crazy, and brilliant…” I kissed him quickly just someone walked passed the door, their feet heavy on the polished wood. “Keep it just behind the door and we will sneak it out when we leave on Monday mornin’.”

Simon nodded and reluctantly I packed the gun away. I walked back to my temporary room with a spring in my step and began to pack my rucksack. We were provided with pretty much everything a soldier would need as part of the School active field studies. A large army issue back pack good fit in a great deal of essentials. We wouldn’t need many clothes. two changes worth, we would wash the rest. I took a radio and luxuries like a few books, sketch book, pencils, work books and sweets and what’ave you; but all the campin’ equipment would all be the schools. It took a couple of hours, because I packed the bag, took stuff out, packed it again, then repeated; till I was down to what I considered the bare essentials. All I really needed was Simon, the tent, something to sleep on, and the gun. I would be satisfied with that.

The weekend flew by. We spent the time planning our proposal and summary of what work we were going to do in the field. I mean we couldn’t just spend the time fucking, shooting, fishing and eating, in the Summer sun could we? We ‘ad to come back with somethin’.

We decided on...Animal behaviour, and reading from the environment. Environmental awareness and how it may effect us. For my artwork I decided to trap some moths so I took a large white sheet off the bed to attract ‘em.

Monday came. We met each other in the corridor with our rucksacks, in our full School cadet uniform. Combat boots, camo trousers, khaki t.shirts and camo jackets, black berets with the Duke of Yorks white rose emblem embroidered on the front. I had stood in front of the mirror for some time that mornin’ thinkin’ how much I looked like John Moran, my Dad.

We marched to the Heads office. Captain Montague-Harris, was standing at the window as we entered. He seemed more relaxed than usual, the heat must have been gettin’ to him and an electric fan was ruffling his pure white hair on the top of his head. As he turned he beamed, already sippin’ from what looked like was a double whiskey, soda and ice.

He commented on our appearance, asked us about our plans and gave us a map of the only areas of land we were allowed on. Common land and parts of the woods still owned by the school. No farms as the farmers were likely to come after us with a shotgun. I ‘ad plans there...I was sure they would be grateful for us to knock off a few rabbits and pigeons...we would just need permission. We would ‘ave to be careful the gun wasn’t reported though...

After saying our goodbyes, he warned us he would be over at sometime to make an inspection and check everythin’ was okay. I swallowed hard at this, but Simon didn’t seem phased at all and just smiled, sayin’ everything would be fine. I was dismissed from the room and waited for Simon who was held back for a few moments. As we went to pick up the camping’ gear and the rifle I asked him what it was all about.

“Why did he keep you?” Simon muttered and faffed about something to do with his mother and went quiet. I didn’t push it because the way he spoke about his mother, which wasn’t very often I got the feelin’ he didn’t like her much and that the feelin’ was mutual.

We checked the map and found an area that wasn’t too far from the pond and the river, but was on the edge of the woods so it would be shaded for part of the day but still warm on an evenin’.

The woods were idyllic, like somethin’ from of a German fairy tale. I half expected a young woman in red to skip by; a slavering sex hungry wolf to be stalking her through the trees. I smiled as I thought of this...maybe I could hunt Simon through the weald. Make him run…

Putting up the tent was the easy bit. It was a standard military two man woodland camo tent. We decided to keep the tools and cooking stuff under a bivi shelter tied between two trees. Everythin’ would stay dry and we would have a little more room in the tent. The gun and food would sleep with us of course.

We set up a folding cook stove and kelly kettle ready for our first meal. A small tin of beans and rather a lot of dry toast. Any perishables would have to be eaten first, but we figured we could trade somehow with the farmers for bread, eggs and milk. We both had the twenny quid on us Petey’s Dad had given us but would only use that in an emergency, the nearest village store being three miles away.

After eatin’ we went for a walk deeper into the woods. The stream that trickled into the main pond was only about four foot deep and five foot wide. The water was crystal clear and small minnows followed the current and hid amongst the reeds at it’s edge. Dark green frogs sat on rocks in the darkened areas and croaked romantic songs to each other as the sunlight dimmed.

We walked and talked about music, sports and planned what we were going to do in the days that followed. We batted away midges and watched a kingfisher fish from thin root stretching out from a willow tree half sticking out of the water.

The time seemed to pass so quickly despite the light trickle of the steam and the rustle of the trees. We led together on the bank and kissed. This was going to be perfect.

We collected some water and walked back to the tent. Simon being a paranoid medic said we should sterilize the water and he placed two tablets inside the kettle.

Sitting in the doorway of the tent I watched him make us a cup of tea before the sun went down.

“It’s nearly…twenty-two hundred hours” I said grinnin’. “We should call it a night…I suppose you will be wantin’ to read…or summat?” Simon brought over a tin mug for me and sat beside me.

“If I wasn’t so tired Sebastian I would say I could do with a jolly good rogering and a hand job…but I am exhausted.”

His upper class accent made his dirty talk sound like a child’s game…but I guess we were still children.

We watched the last of the light fade, and washed the mugs leavin’ them to dry on the tents pegs. We stripped down to our boxers, vests and socks and climbed inside the giant sleepin’ bag we had fashioned from zipping both our single ones together. That first night was chilly, but we were warm inside, our legs tangled together and hands around the others back. As Simon began to doze off I whispered in his ear, mimickin’ his accent.

“A jolly good rogering….” He giggled and I did too.

We slept like logs. Mainly because we /were/ so tired. The mornin’ came early…four thirty three am to be exact. Simon moaned in my ear and whined about the light creeping through the tiny pinprick gaps of the stitching in the tent. I teased him that a blow job would be good right then but he told me to ‘fuck off and go wank my wood in the woods.’

I didn’t of course I didn’t want to move. I stroked the both of us gently until he became fully erect, fully awake and threw off the sleeping bag and repeatedly pushed himself into my fist. Cummin’ on our shorts we kissed a while and then undressed, deciding to walk to the stream to wash the shorts and ourselves.

After we had washed, the smell of lifebuoy on our skin and our hair drying in the sun; we sat on towels naked on the bank. Simon laid back closin’ his eyes, his hands loose at the wrists restin’ on his chest.

“Simon? He hummed a confirmation he had heard but neither moved or opened his eyes. I stood over him feet either side of his thighs and a slow smile crept across his face. Eyes remainin’ shut he laughed…

“I know what you are up to Moran…it’s too…exposed here…and I ‘aven’t you know…”

I knelt to straddle him, my cock bouncin’ I slapped it against his flat stomach.

“It’s not exposed, we’re surrounded by trees and…I don’t care. I can wash again after.” He propped himself up on his elbows and eyes now wide he raised one eyebrow.

I leaned forward and kissed him rubbin’ our cocks against each other. Taking up the soap still damp from a wet flannel wrapped around it I slid it over myself, a cool breeze caressin’ the heat lying in my hand. Simon hooked his hands under his thighs and looked to both sides to see if anyone was there…of course they weren’t. I spread him wide and pushed myself into him. It had become so much easier lately.

Bearin’ down on him my feet clawing at the soft grass I slowly rocked into him. He held me so close I could see the reflection of the trees over the water moving in the pupils of his eyes. We were quiet at first, the sound of the water, the trees, buzzing insects confusing our senses…but after a while as the warmth of our bodies became almost unbearable our minds were blank and nothing could touch us. Our breathin’ was ragged and my throat became dry from the low growls I seemed to be makin’. Though at first I was unaware I was makin’ them at all. We came together, and I lay on top of him, still inside; pepperin’ his face with kisses. We said nothin’. I sighed as I withdrew from him and stepped back into the water to wash myself. He stepped in behind me and placed his hands on my chest, his own chest flat flush with my back.

I wanted him to say it…but I guess he couldn’t…or didn’t feel that way.

[I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say

I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be

But if you wait around a while, I'll make you fall for me

I promise, I promise you I will]

We walked back to the tent, in our shorts and combats. Already the dynamics of our relationship was changin’. Being out here together, alone we seemed to be at one with each other. We didn’t ‘ave to speak or constantly fool around. We just were us.

We worked hard that afternoon, and despite the age gap and we actually worked really well together. We studied the light and weather and how it would effect a camp in the area. Drew our own map and compared it to the one the Captain ‘ad given us. Then wrote a piece together from two armies point of views. Looking at the strategies we would use if we came across each other in the field. Whilst Simon wrote out his field diary I sketched him. I could ‘ave amongst drawn him with my eyes shut. The way he sat with one leg folded beneath him. The look of concentration on his face which made him pucker his lips slightly in a pout. Frowning, with one arched brow higher than the other. From that first time in the sick bay to now…every time I looked at him I could only think one thing.

He. Was. Beautiful.

We ate more toast and a pack of bacon we had stolen from the school kitchens and kept cool in the shade. Whilst we ate, Simon waved a knife at me.

“You…need to kill something. I need more meat”. I laughed and waved my knife back.

“You…need to fuck off…you ‘ad my meat this mornin’.

“You…need to get me a wabbit. Let’s set some traps after this….”He chewed ferociously. “It’s only the second day. We are going to have to think of something. We also need to try out the gun.”

I shrugged, totally confident of my own ability with the air rifle.

“You need to trust me…I’ll get you five rabbits…five pigeons and…a squirrel”. He laughed until I got to the squirrel and he screwed up his nose.

“Sod off, I am not eating a bloody squirrel.”

“We should make somethin’, use the skins…”

“Yes Sebastian, moccasins, and we will live in a tepee and have many children….” He said mockingly.

“How” I said holding up a hand like in the bad old westerns where the white guys wore make up to make them look like Indians…

“With great difficulty because you can only fuck me up the arse and that’s not how babies are made Sebastian. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?” I shrugged again and swallowed the last mouthful.

“Only how to drink and fuck around lately”. He looked at me a little shocked and changed the subject onto the risk of shooting the gun too often and raising suspicion. We continued our talk until late; the night sky changing from red to navy blue. Simon’s head dropped onto my shoulder before we quietly crawled into the sleepin’ bag and fell into a deep perfectly dreamless sleep.

I was content. Happy even.

The next day we decided to put into practise the stuff we had read about catching rabbit. I had brought a length of wire and piers for the purpose. After a measly breakfast of toast cooked at the fire we walked the parameter of the surrounding fields and the wood looking for rabbit trails and warrens. There were plenty. Some were only twenty foot from where the tent was situated. Simon found a piece of discarded wood and with the hunting knife split it in two pieces and made a hole at the end of each. Whilst I went about measurin’ and cuttin’ the wire, fashionin’ them into loops to attach to the stakes.

It was cooler today and because we were walkin’ through long grass Simon had insisted we wore our trousers instead of shorts. He was in typical paranoid medical book mode, worrying about ticks.

“I’m not spending the evening pulling ticks off your legs Moran…plus you might catch something and give it to me. “ Reluctantly I gave in.

We set the traps, one by the rabbit run twenty foot from the tent and the other near a warren in the clearing by the stream. Pushin’ the stakes into the ground, the wire loops standin’, waitin’ for an unsuspecting bunny to catch a leg or neck in it. It wouldn’t harm them much, just keep ‘em there till we despatched ‘em. We said we would check every two to three hours, so bugs would not suffer too much.

Whilst we waited we decided to just chill out around the tent and smoke a little dope. Pretty soon we were both stoned, pink eyed and horny. We spent nearly an hour /just/ kissin’, swappin’ dope smoke and tastin’ tobacco on each others tongues. I was lost to him. I felt like I never wanted to be more than a few inches away from his warm skin. There was no such thing as personal space; we were becomin’ merged together.

Our conversations became more deep and probing as we wanted to learn more about each other. I didn’t realise it then but this was the moment I fell in love. It wasn’t fascination or infatuation anymore. It was something much more intense.

I never told him about the abuse. I told him about my mother though. How beautiful she was, how my father had left her alone so much. How it had messed her head up and when he had been shot she turned to alcohol and drugs to help; but all it was doing was killing her.

He told me about his mother; how much he hated her. He said she was an ‘old school aristocratic fucking bitch who needed teaching a lesson in humanity’. He became quite impassioned about it. I’d never seen him so pissed off. He started rambling about how his father should have left her years ago…maybe he wouldn’t have ended up dead.

 

[When your day is through

And so is your temper

You know what to do

I'm gonna always be there]

His anger was beginnin’ to upset me, I wanted him to be happy. So I silenced him with another long passionate kiss. He began to move his lips down my neck and pushed up my t.shirt coverin’ my chest and stomach in kisses.

I assumed he was going to suck me so I undid my flies and pushed my jeans to my thighs. My cock hard and pulsin’ I stroked it gently as he lapped his tongue over my hip bones....Then he said it; voice dripping sex and money. What I had been dreadin’…

“Let me fuck you Sebastian, let me show you how good it feels. I /really/ want to.”

I sat bolt upright and pulled up my trousers. He looked shocked but not upset…

“NO…no, no..no Simon. I…I’m r..really s..ssorry. I can’..can’t.” My fuckin’ stutter was there again. It always came back in moments of high emotion.

Now, he looked upset. His mouth dropped, eyes darkened and he sat back, long legs bent. He silently stared at his bare feet. I felt stupid, maybe I should ‘ave let him but I just couldn’t. It had been over three years but I couldn’t get the feeling of Phillips inside me or the smell of his breath and aftershave out of my head. The pain, the pleasure on his face; the months of careful groomin’ and molestation, before two hours of absolute hell. My chest hitched as I tried to breathe properly.

“I’m so ssor-ry, Si..mon..I c..can’t. I feel bad, wrong to enjoy what we do sso much…sssometimes.” As I struggled to breathe he could see I was heading towards a full panic attack. He swung his legs under him and crawled towards me on his knees. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and spoke calmly and quietly in my ear.

[Sometimes if I shout

It's not what's intended

These words just come out

With no gripe to bear]

“Sebastian, calm down…it’s okay…I’m sorry…hush now. It’s okay really…” After a few minutes the tightness in my chest and my stutter disappeared and I could speak slowly…

“I can’t Simon, I can’t say it…I can’t”…He leaned into my shoulder and led me back down. I stared at the roof of the tent and he held me. A reassuring hand on my chest, face at my shoulder, he whispered…

“You don’t have to tell me anything Sebastian, but…did someone hurt you?”

I didn’t answer for a moment…then just gave a short sharp nod of my head. He let out a pained sigh and lay his head on my chest. He whispered so quietly, it was though he didn’t even want me to hear.

“I’ll never hurt you Sebastian...I promise.”

We lay like that for thirty minutes or more, before I remembered the trap.

We walked hand in hand to the traps both silent. I a little embarrassed, and he a little upset by what I had revealed to him. At this time I hadn’t even told my own mother.

The traps were both empty. We checked them again, every three hours. We decided to leave them overnight but after a troubled sleep wrapped tightly in Simons arms I found them both still empty.

I stormed back to the tent and threw the traps on the floor a few feet from the fire where he was boiling water, and toastin’ some now stale bread.

“Fuck. No luck then?” he said rubbin’ his eyes.

“Now what? Go see the local farmers?” He shrugged and patted the tree trunk he was sat on and handed me some dry toast.

“I guess so…try out the gun. Wash it down with tea, it’s not so bad” Handin’ me a cup of tea with powered milk we sat and watched the sun rise further into the sky. It was going to be a warm day. The rabbits may be all underground in the cool…but we had to try somethin’.

We went to the nearest farm, the gun bag on my shoulder. The farmer saw us approachin’ from his tractor on the edge of his cornfield and immediately jumped out walking towards us presumably to tell us to ‘fuck off his land and that it was not a public rite of way’.

Simon looked at me and out of the corner of his mouth mumbled…

“Let me do the talking, you do the shooting….Oh Hello Sir, we are from the Duke of York’s and as part of our training we are hunting and trapping pests this week. Unfortunately we haven’t been very successful in trapping, probably due to the fine weather we are are enjoying. We were wondering whether you perhaps were experiencing any pigeon or rabbit population problems we might be able to assist you with?”

The farmer, a tall, well built ruddy faced man in a flat cap and green overalls was about to speak but stood slightly opened mouth stunned at the confidence and balls of this plumy mouthed posh kid from the local Military School. He frowned and looked between Simon and an I. He probably thought we were both the same age due to my size. He looked at me and laughed.

“Do you talk to son or does the toff do it all for you? Wos the gun in the bag then?” I broke into a smile. Then stood to attention and saluted him. Simon did the same and his demeanour changed when I spoke.

“Sir. I am trainin’ to be a rifleman Sir.” It was not technically true but impressive none the less.

“That right son…you any good then?” He had a Kent accent and hearin’ my east London lilt seemed to make him more comfortable. I guess Simon was more used to talkin’ down to people from his background.

“Yes sir. Do you have anyfin’ I could demonstrate with?”

Simon chipped in…“Good…he’s bloody brilliant. He’ll be a sniper one day according to the Masters.” Once again he looked between Simon and I and beckoned us to follow him…he seemed mildly amused.

He pointed to a large oak tree in which a rookery was teaming with large black birds.

“See that bloody tree…fire a shot, then see how many of those little bastards you can take out.” I dropped the bag to the floor and took out the gun and loaded it. The two others stood behind me silently and waited.

I aimed into the tree and closin’ one eye focused on a large old rook with broken feathers and fired a shot. The bird fell from the tree and the others rose into the air. I fired three more shots and took down two birds. The others drifted off on the warm air. As I didn’t want to waste my shots and thought this would probably be enough I lowered the gun and turned to them.

Simon was grinning like a numpty and the farmer walked towards me, placin’ a hand on my shoulder. His ruddy face breaking into a smile.

“Well done son…so what do you two want in return? S’gotta be a catch right?” I looked toward Simon.

“We would like…” He said thoughtfully. Several of the birds or rabbits he shoots. The rest can be for your pot. Also…I don’t suppose a few carrots, potatoes or onions would be too much to ask?” He paused and added…”...Please?”

He stared at Simon a while and nodded.

“Want some bread too? My wife just made some loaves this mornin’. “I grinned behind his back.

“Gosh, terribly kind, thank you very much …Sir.”

The farmer showed us to one of his other fields where he was having trouble with a family of rabbits in the corner of a bean field. I sat on the fence some way away and picked off a bunny or two when I saw them appear from the rows of beans. Simon got bored and too hot after the first two and walked towards the farmhouse to negotiate food with the farmers wife.

I bagged six adult rabbits and shot a pair of wood pigeons on the way to the house. I looked like a proper gamekeeper. Two braces of rabbit over my shoulders two pigeons in one hand and the gun under my arm. It was lunchtime and the farmer had returned to the house for his dinner. I was hot and desperate for something to drink

The door of the main house was open but I knocked before entering. The farmer’s wife came to the door, tea towel in hand and a motherly beamin’ smile.

The farmer, his son and Simon were sat at the table talking about farming and land. I frowned at Simon as the wife took the braces and pigeons from me, hanging them over a chair in the corner of the room. I never even knew he knew about any of this stuff. The farmer, Farmer Siskins as we then found out, inspected the rabbits.

“Five shots to the brain…you are good son, did the other one scream a lot?”

“A bit” I said…”yeah, a lot actually” He wife screwed up her nose and placed a plate of ham sandwiches and a pint of lemonade and ice cubes in front of me. I thanked her enthusiastically.

“Wash your hands first though. I’ve got some bread for you and your friend, a bit of veg, six eggs and you can have two rabbits and the pigeons. Is that alrigh’?” I stood and washed my hands at the sink and joined them at the table.

“More than alrigh’, that’s really kind thank you.”

The farmer thanked me and asked us to come back in a few more days if we wanted. Then he and his son went about their work.

His wife was lovely, she reminded me of Nanna the way she fussed over us both. We thanked her for the food and as we were leaving, me carrying the game Simon turned to her with a raised eyebrow he asked…

“I don’t suppose you might have a cricket bat and ball we might borrow for a few days?” We left, with a bat, ball, the stumps, full bellies, meat for our supper, breakfast, and veg for a stew.

That night we feasted on rabbit, potatoes and carrots. We smoked some more weed and fell into bed early. We sucked each other dry, soixante-neuf; nearly choking as we came together, desperately trying to breathe, swallow and moan at the same time. Simon complained I smelt a bit like dead rabbits. So with a promise I would wash in the stream in the morning I fell asleep. His head tucked into my shoulder.

 

[I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say

I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be

And if I had to walk the world, I'd make you fall for me

I promise you, I promise you I will]

We washed in the stream the next mornin’ and fucked on the bank as we had on the second day. It was cut short by movement in the trees. Simon was convinced we were being watched. He said he had a bad feelin’ about it. We decided to be a little more careful in case it turned out to be the Captain coming to check on us.

When we got back to the camp the food tent and fire had been disturbed. Someone had been through our stuff, but nothin’ seemed missin’. We had taken our money, the gun and any valuable stuff like the scopes and stuff with us. I looked at Simon who looked equally confused and concerned.

“Bun.....the Captain wouldn’t have done this...it’s not been messed up...just searched. You still think there is no one watchin’ us?

I shook my head and looked around… “I’m beginnin’ to think you might be right.”

So till evenin’ we stayed at the camp and re arranged everythin’. Packed some items and put things ‘just so’ so that if they were disturbed again we would know.

We decided that from now on everyday we would walk from the tent to the woods and round to the burnt oak on a patrol to see who might be in the area. Simon was worried it was the junkie kids, but I pointed out if it had been they would ‘ave definitely stolen our stuff.

The air was warm, the sun glowin’ vermillion...a light breeze was building...and that was when we heard it.

A light jingle of bells…

Then we felt it…

The bird swooped down over our heads and it’s large grey and white striped body created a whoosh of air that gently disturbed our hair. Simon ducked…

“What the hell?” I smiled and took out my scope searchin’ for it in the trees…

“Its a bird...fuck...what is it? It’s not a buzzard…” I caught a glimpse of it in the trees as it hopped from branch to branch. A small silver bell attached with leather straps on each ankle. It was mostly silent, but occasionally opened it’s beak making a high pitched ‘kye, kye, kye’ as though it were calling to someone.

The trees moved somewhere behind us and someone whistled loudly, and as we turned the bird flew back over our heads with a ‘ke-ow’.

He stepped out of the shadows like somethin’ from an old movie. He was dressed similar to us in khaki trousers and wearing a gilet covered in pockets. The difference was he had a brace of rabbits attached to his belt and a intricately carved leather bag over one shoulder. also a white blouson new romantic looking shirt with slightly torn baggy sleeves. He pulled a small piece of meat from the bag and held it out for the bird who was now sittin’ on his fist.

He was around forty five with wavy shoulder length hair, once brown now streaked with mainly grey and silver strands, makin’ him look older. He wore a pair of wire rimmed spectacles and many wooden beads around his neck. he looked a bit of an old hippy; and that’s what we must of assumed he was until he walked towards us with the bird, and opened his mouth. He smiled a crooked smile with one tooth clearly missing in the left side.

Simon stepped back a little and I myself was a little wary...but I watched the bird tearin’ at the meat and was entranced...I couldn’t say much...so I just said what I was thinkin’.

“It’s beautiful.”

The strange man grinned his toothy smile again and laughed. His voice deep and rumblin’ in English…and another language.

“She’s is szép… beautiful. She is magyar. Vándor sólyom….you say Goshawk.” He nodded to make sure I understood. I realised then...he was a gypsy. I had seen some Roma in Germany when I was a smaller child but never took any notice. They were treated badly because they were reduced to beggin’ in the streets. This man looked educated, I hoped he could understand my English. I looked at Simon would was frownin’, arms crossed and also watchin’ the bird.

“Did she catch all those rabbits?” He nods and points at the gun.

“Your weapon is not as beautiful as my bird.” His accent was thick but his english excellent. Simon coughed to indicate he wanted to speak.

“Did you go through our things?” The gypsy nodded and his smile dropped. He held a hand to his chest.

“I am very sorry. I no chorav. I did not steal. I needed to see that you are good people.”

Simon was about to speak again and I waved him quiet.

“I’ll do the talkin’ this time…” I laughed and the man laughed with me. “Are you a gypsy?” He nodded sadly, probably worried.

“Yes...I am staying here, some days. You like my bird...we fly her? Not now. The sun is going to rest. Tomorrow? Here. I come here meet you?”

I nodded enthusiastically and Simon rolled his eyes. I turned and whispered to him. “It’ll be fun and the bird kills quickly. I want to watch...please?” With this he softened a little and nodded.

“Yes, yes please. I want to see you fly it.”

The bird getting impatient was walkin’ its feet and pullin’ at the leather cords. He spoke to it in another language and it quietened.

“I go. She is tired. my name is Tibor...tell no one I am here. We hunt, we eat, we drink. Yes?”

Despite his worries Simon answered a postive with me.

“Yes” “Yes”

With this ‘Tibor’ turned and walked away back into the woods.

Simon and I walked back to the tent talkin’ about the bird and the gypsy. This was somethin’ new, excitin’, and maybe slightly dangerous. He took my hand in his and we swung them together as the sun faded.

As we turned out the torches and lamp Simon laughed in my ear and mimicked our new acquaintance.

“Tomorrow Sebastian...We fuck, we hunt, we eat, we drink. Yes?”

Gigglin’ together, we were more relaxed knowing no one had been watching us...or so we thought.

[I gotta tell you

Need to tell you

Gotta tell you

I've gotta tell you]

**  
*******


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'  
> Part 9: Hand in glove.  
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.  
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex. Drug taking....  
> Music: The Smiths - Hand in Glove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

 

[Hand in glove

The sun shines out of our behinds

No, it's not like any other love

This one is different - because it's us]

The next day there was a little more cloud cover, it was still warm, but not the searing heat of the last few days. The breeze pleasant on our skin as we cooked breakfast and talked about what plans we had for the rest of the week.

We were shocked to receive a visit at 09.00 am...just after we had finished getting dressed to go out. Simon saw him first. I was tidying the inside of the tent. I had already developed army habits. I hated it untidy and had a terrible compulsiveness to fold my clothes. It was probably a blessin’ with bein’ on the ground bugs and spiders had a liking for hidin’ in the material. I heard Simon shout from outside.

“Bunny! Fuck, fuck, fuck…he’s coming over the field. Shit!”

My first thought was...What the ‘ell is he shoutin’ about rabbit’s for. I ‘ad no idea by ‘Bunny’ he meant Cptn Montague-Harris the headmaster of the school. I came out of the tent with my binoculars and looked to where he was pointin’. The Captain in his causal tweeds was walkin’ briskly across the fields carrying a swagger stick.

“Oh crap...the gun. I’ll wrap it and hide it under the bivi.”

“No, hide it under the back of the tent.”

I quickly wrapped the gun bag in a towel and hid it behind the tent under the bottom ground sheet. Then found our drug stash and cigarettes and hid them in the empty egg box Mrs Siskins the farmers wife had given us under the remainin’ food in the bivi tent.

“Puts some water on in case he wants a tea” I said to Simon who seemed to be flappin’ around more than I was. As he approached us, we both put on our White Rose berets and stood to attention at the entrance of the tent. The stout man, white hair like cotton in the sunlight came to a halt and greeted us with his own salute before giving the command for us to be at ease. His leather boots scuffed at the dry earth as he asked us how things were. He inspected the tent, well, looked inside and seemed please to find it tidy and organised. Nodded his approval at the bivi tent and checkin’ it’s sturdiness. Then after a while he sat on the tree trunk whilst Simon made his a tea.

“I am surprised boys you have not come back to the school and asked for supplies...What are you eating” Simon, flashed his eyes to the rabbit skins drying on the washing line we had put between two trees. Simon was already a good liar.

“Moran is a very good trapper...we have been eating rabbit mainly, and we negotiated with a local farmer for some pigeons, bread and eggs. They were most kind.”

Montague-Harris looked at me...I held my head down and looked through my rucksack for my sketch pad and notebooks.

“I sent someone out to check on you, but they said you weren’t in your tent. Said they heard gunshots in the distance...I guess you were doing field research were you not...Moran?”

I looked up surprised he had addressed me.

“Um, yes Sir...would you like to see?” I pulled out the evidence and handed them to him. He took them and began to look through them. He paused at the sketches I had done of Simon...and I was grateful they were just portraits and fully clothed. Simon smirked as he watched…

“The insect and weather studies are quite interesting Sir…”

He handed them back to me and smiled “Quite the artist Moran, very good. So what were you planning to do today boys?”

Simon looked at me with a warning to keep quiet...I wasn’t so stupid to mention the gypsy hawker. He spoke for me.

“We were thinking of trying to fish the pond, I’ve seen some movement in it. We thought about looking at codes today, maybe practising some semaphore and the farmer lent us a cricket bat.”

He nodded his approval…

“Very good, very good. You appear to be doing very well. I will leave you to it. I tried to ring your mother Moran but there was no answer so I called your Aunt. Pleasant woman...I’ll let her know how you are. As for you Simon. Your mother will be coming to the School at the beginning of term to see you. I trust you will be respectful enough to see her? “

I frowned looking at Simon...I had no idea what this was about but the familiarity of the man to him made me uneasy. Simon huffed out a long sigh rolling his eyes.

“Yes Sir. I will” He quietly looked at his feet as the Captain stood. I did too, saluting again. Simon stood with less enthusiasm.

He shook my hand and gently patted Simon’s shoulder before saying goodbye, leaving to walk across the fields.

I waited till he was out of sight before removing the gun from under the tent; laying it across my lap. I could sense Simon was a little uncomfortable.

“So...when were you goin’ to tell me?” He dipped the tin cups into the ‘cleaning’ bucket of water and began to wash and wipe them out.

“Tell you what?”

“That...he knows you outside School?” Simon gritted his teeth in annoyance. Still mad about the news of his mother coming to check on him.

“He doesn’t /know/ me...he’s just my uncle, my mother’s brother.” I stared at him in disbelief for a few moments, before placing the gun at my feet.

“Uncle Bunny?… Oh shit...no wonder why you get special treatment. Fuckin’ ell, why didn’t you tell me? I thought we talked about stuff?” He stood and suddenly; going into a full blown rage; threw a wet cloth at me, which landed sloppily in my lap. He shouted louder than I have ever heard him do so. It was a good job he was at least four foot away; or I would have clouted him one.

“I DO NOT GET SPECIAL FUCKING TREATMENT! I WORK BLOODY HARD AND I AM GOOD AT THINGS AND EVERYONE THINKS I AM EITHER SPOILT OR I ONLY GOT THIS FAR THOUGH FUCKING NEPOTISM. IT’S BULLSHIT. I FUCKING HATE MY FAMILY, I HATE MY MOTHER AND I HATE HIM. I JUST WANT TO DO WELL AND GET AWAY FROM THEM…”

I stood, the cloth falling from my lap the water making it look like I had pissed myself.

“SIMON….STOP...I’M SORRY…Stop. Please stop...it’s okay, I was kiddin’ I didn’t know, I never knew...please...stop.”

He lowered his head, the anger falling from his face...I waved my hands down, before gingerly holding out my fingers to touch his cheek…

“Please…”

[You know I love you…]

He breathed hard and I could see he was trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry…Only you and Petey know...I couldn’t, didn’t want you to know. I don’t like being me...I want to be normal...like you.” I laughed and held his shoulders drawing him into a hug.

“I’m not normal Si...it’s okay...I care about you, and him being your Uncle ain’ gonna change that.”

[Hand in glove

We can go wherever we please

And everything depends upon

How near you stand to me]

He smiled and embraced me tightly...we rocked on our feet for a while before we heard movement in the trees behind me. Quickly letting go we both looked in the direction of the noise, breathin’ a sigh of relief when a red haired medium sized dog ran towards us, followed by Tibor walking out into the light. His bird on his arm carrying some equipment and grinning at us. I hoped he hadn’t seen us embracin’ but I suspected he had.

“You are late boys...come…”

We were introduced to the dog, a wire haired vizsla called Ordas which Tibor said meant wolf; but the dog was soppy as anything and wanted to play. It’s tongue lolled as it licked my hands and ran around mine and Simons legs.

We made our way to the clearing near the burnt oak; there were rabbits everywhere here, but I wasn’t prepared to risk traps where the local kids were hangin’ out. Tibor, took out a spare gauntlet from his bag and threw it at me. I caught it and put it on my hand. waiting for instructions. Simon sat behind us and using the cheap 35mm camera we had bought with us took a few photos. The gypsy came closer to me and passed her to my fist. She walked onto it uneasily. She looked at him with her white brows furrowed with a little annoyance at being handed to this boy, this amateur hunter, much too lowly to be graced with her presence. He placed the leather satchel he carried over my neck and other shoulder and the bird looked at it and me expectantly.

Tibor explained to me about the bird, it’ s flying technique, how far it could see, how accurate it was at killing. I began to see a lot of similarities between a sniper and a hawk...I looked into her large dark red orange eyes and my heart skipped. She was on constant watch, her muddy brown and grey head moving left to right, tilting up to look at the skies and watching for other birds; her feathers catching in the light breeze and ruffling.

We walked a little further and waited until Orlas began to sniff around the edges of the trees quietly. Then he stood stock still on point, the dogs tail straight back and it’s nose in the direction of ...somethin’. Tibor gestured for me to unloop the leather jesses from my hand and lift it...as I did so the bird opened her wings revealing her large grey and white striped feathers, and rose gracefully into the air swooping down over Orlas’ head and into the trees. She skillfully maneuvered through them twisting and turnin’ and landin with a rustle and a triumphant call as she pieced the skull of a rabbit with her razor sharp talons.

She sat on it patiently, stabbing it playfully with her hooked beak. Orlas, padded after her and as Tibor, Simon and I ran after him he looked back to us before nudgin’ his nose at the dead animal. Tibor told me to get a piece of meat from the pouch in the satchel, and the hawk left the rabbit and jumped to my fist, snatching at the meat and tearing chunks from it. The Hungarian laughed at my delighted face and patted my shoulder.

“This is the first...we will walk to the further field. We can let her fly and you can see how she rides the wind, yes?”

“Yes” I nodded stupidly and Simon smiled...he looked like he was enjoying this too. The rugged gypsy explained that we had to stay away from the surrounding estate land, despite there being more rabbits and birds there he said there was always a chance she may come across poisoned bait left by gamekeepers. They were employed to get rid of the birds, in case they took the game from the land used in sport.

Walkin’ to the other field near to our tent that ‘Bunny’ had crossed Tibor took her from me and let her go…she called to him as she soared higher on the warm thermals and circled overhead. Simon with his suspicious mind began to ask Tibor questions, about where he had come from, where he was going and why. The older man seemed a little irritated, not by the questions themselves but by Simons brusqueness and lack of respect.

“Simon, leave the bloke alone. Just enjoy the mornin’ yeah?” The gypsy looked at me and softly smiled. There was history in that face. He looked hardened and I noticed a large scar running under his chin to his ear. He looked like he had stories to tell; but now was not the right time. He patted Simon gently on his back.

“Now is not the time fiatalember...later...after we have…” He was about to finish when the bird dropped from the sky and flew silently into the trees but landing with a clashing of leaves and branches.

“Shit is she hurt?”I ran after Tibor and the dog, Simon by my side.” When we got there we were surprised to see her in a low tree with a large wood pigeon between her feet. Tibor laughed and called her. She flew to him leaving the prey behind. Simon picked up a fallen branch and prodded the bird till it fell out of the tree. As it hit the floor the dog gently picked it up in it’s mouth and carried it to him, and sat down at his feet. This seemed to please him, the dog had taken a bit of a shine to the him and it wagged its tail at him when he spoke. He took the pigeon from him and patted Orlas’ head.

“Good dog…”

Tibor smiled and spoke to Simon…”He likes you...This is good, he has no one to play with except me and my horse.” Simon immediately perked up.

“Horse? You have a horse? Where? I love horses...I have a horse”. I looked at him, confused. I was discovering more about him this week than in the whole four or five months we had known each other.

“You ‘ave a horse?” I asked but he ignored me and started to talk to the man about his own, which he used to pull his caravan. It was jointly decided we should go to the caravan and cook the rabbit and pigeon. Tibor promised us…

“Cheese, and music and pálinka” Which seemed to be by what he said an extremely strong apricot brandy schnapps type alcohol. At the promise of this Simon seemed more relaxed and we followed Tibor deeper into the woods until we came to the middle of the stream, not far from where Simon and I had been washin’ ourselves and our clothes. Not to mention fuckin’ on the river bank. We looked at each other uneasily for a moment, but quickly dismissed our thoughts when the caravan and the piebald pony came into view.

We were both astounded by the imagery of it all.

With the light dappling through the trees, the gentle babblin’ of the stream and the caravan in the distance it looked like we had travelled back in time. It was a little tatty, and not the brightly coloured canvas covered barrel vans of the Irish ‘tinker’s’ but a cottage shaped bow top carriage decorative Romani ‘vardo’...with straw dolls and a long leather whip hanging in the door frame. It was painted a dark red with gold coloured scrolls and Chiriklo birds around the windows. It had half glazed doors in the front and a molly croft skylight in the roof.

My face ached from smiling at it.

“You like my home? “ Tibor was smilin’ as he placed the kills down on the steps and removin’ the hawk from his fist placed her on a bow perch he had pushed into the ground in the shade, tetherin’ her, but leavin’ enough length for her to hop to a shallow water dish.

He whistled and the dog pricked up his ears. The pony trotted over, it’s long mane swaying and it flicked it’s tail at the summer midges. Simon walked toward her and spoke quietly, the animal lying its chin on his shoulder and snufflin’ his neck as it smelt him. He patted her and let out his light bubblin’ laugh.

“She’s lovely...what’s her name?” Tibor smiled as he filled a kettle from a water jug and washed his hands, gesturing to us to do the same.

“Eszti, it means star...We wash hands, prepared the meat, I have eggs, bread, some gulyás. we eat and drink and talk. Maybe I tell you more eh?” He looked at Simon who looked a little embarrassed by his earlier interrogative techniques.

We helped prepare the meal. For a change I washed and cut the carrots and Simon skinned and gutted the rabbit...Tibor laughing at him as he inspected it’s guts with interest, carefully dissectin’ it. He seemed very impressed when I explained Simon was going to be a doctor, or aspired to be one. We cooked the food on the fire in a large black camp kettle with some unpronounceable name Tibor called it.

The late afternoon sun was movin’ lower in the sky and the trees normally provided a welcome dappled shade; but today where there was more of a breeze I was feelin’ chilled.

I asked if we could eat in the caravan because I really wanted to look inside. Tibor must’ve realised and as he dished up the food in tin bowls he waved a hand for us to ‘ave a look.

I stepped up the wooden steps and opened the door...Orlas the dog ran passed me up the slats and inside and immediately laid down in the middle of the floor. At the back of the vardo was what at first looked like a mini theatre stage with carved panel shutters and velvet curtains. It was a wide single bed tucked behind the curtains, raised off the floor with a small step ladder. There was a small iron stove and tin cups and jugs hangin’ from the ceiling. Every nook and cranny with filled with little cupboards and storage. All wood, all hand carved...like someone had compacted a whole house into a tiny space; and yet it worked.

I flipped down a wooden table onto it’s foldin’ legs and Simon and I sat on the bench runnin’ the wall opposite the stove. It was comfy with cushions and and hand made fur blankets made from goat and sheep skin stitched neatly together.

Simons face was a picture, it lit up with the warm golden sunlight from the skylight in the ceiling...and the gold paint coverin’ much of the carved wood. We both looked at each other in amazement and turned to Tibor as his toothy smiling face came through the door. He was carryin’ the bowls of steamin’ food and placed them on the table.

“Eat boys...it’s good.” He disappeared again to get his own bowl and one for the dog. When he came back he unhooked a stool from the ceiling and sat on it, his back to the doorway. Not needin’ to move he opened a small cupboard which seemed to be some sort of cool box and pulled out a large piece of crumbly cheese.

“Goats cheese, break some over the gulyás.” He passed it to us both and we did as we were told. The mixture of cool cheese, hot spiced tomato soupy and the fresh meat was delicious. I don’t think we had had a better meal all Summer, even at school. We congratulated him on the food and he laughed.

“We need a celebration...a toast” He pointed to the cupboard behind us, which I hadn’t even realised was there behind the cushions. I pulled on a small brass knob and behind it was hidden four large bottles of pale golden liquid, a pipe and a bag of weed.

I laugh loudly and pulled out one of the bottles and put it on the table. I reached inside one of my cargo pockets and pulled out our own stash.

“Would you like some of ours?” The older man chuckled and asked for his pipe. First he poured small amounts of the strange apricot schnapps into shot sized glasses and gave us each one. We made a toast to ‘The birds of the air, the fish of the sea and to the free men of the land.’

We cheered and threw back our heads and drank the pálinka. It was very sweet but burned in the stomach and went straight to our heads.

After we had finished eating he filled his pipe with a little of our grass and we smoked happily sedated by the alcohol. The air of the little caravan fillin’ with pungent smoke which curled out of the molly croft. The dog sensibly went to sit outside on the steps. It was heaven. The horse gently snuffled about outside. The trees creaked and we talked freeling with the man now we were relaxed. We told him about school and our friends. We obviously didn’t talk about ‘us’ but he seemed not to care anyway even if he did know.

Simon spoke about his mothers stables and his horse. I sat quite stoned starin’ at a photograph on the wall behind the mans head near the door.

“Tibor...are you married?” He turned to look in the direction of my gaze and sighed. The photograph showed a beautiful woman with raven hair and the complexion of someone from India or the far east. Holding a pretty little girl of about two years old with black ringlets.

He nodded and proceeded to tell us his tale. Simon and I gratefully stayed rapt and silent. He explained that things were westernisin’ in Hungary and the post Nazi and Communist regime was changin’. Though the State Security or what seemed to be their version of the KGB still clamped down on protests and minority groups, including the Roma...the gypsies, the homosexuals; and anyone of colour who were seen to be...’making a fuss’.

It seemed our gypsy friend was much more than we first thought. He had been born Roma, but his mother had married out of the community and had been shunned. She had moved to Buda with his father. He and his younger brother had been well educated and Tibor had become a professor of Philosophy teaching at Budapest University, and his brother an artist. Both had very passionate feelings about how the Hungarian people were being fed a Gulyás communism. They both wrote pieces for an underground newspaper which had drawn the attention of the State Security. One night on his way home Tamás disappeared...he had been taken to the State Security headquarters on the corner of Andrássy Avenue. Where is was well known that they detained, tortured, and executed people. He fled for his life, leaving everything behind and turned to his Gypsy roots.

“I travelled a while and found a large family group of Roma near the Yugoslav borders...They were wary of me at first but I was useful because I could read and speak English and other languages. The head of the family had two sons and a daughter...Lyubitshka...Lyuba, my love.”

He nodded towards the photograph and poured himself a full glass of pálinka, knocked it back with a hiss and poured another before refillin’ our glasses.

“She was a burnin’ fire of passion and spirit. I liked her...she liked me. She asked me to teach her to read and write. I had to ask her father’s permission...he said he would give me a month to teach her and if I were unsuccessful she would return to her normal chores.” He chuckled to himself and began to fill his pipe again with his own grass, so he did not use all ours…

“Within a month she could read and write and speak a little English too...but she was also pregnant.”

We sat and stared open mouthed.

“Fuck, what did you do?” I forgot my language but I don’t think he cared. He grinned and pointin’ to the gap where a tooth should be said...

“Her father tried to kill me.” Laughing again he continued…”We married very quickly and my daughter Lyubjana was born. Just after that picture was taken...they came looking for me. I heard from others that they had not stopped trying to find me after taking my brother. So I ran...for when you are given, eat, when you are beaten, run away. I had to leave them, to protect them...they moved one way, as I left in the night. “

 

[And if the people stare

Then the people stare

Oh, I really don't know and I really don't care

There's no shame, Oh no...Oh no.]

I felt a lump in my throat and looked at Simon. He had tears in his eyes...it was probably a lot because we were so stoned and drunk, but the man was our friend and he seemed so very lonely. He smiled gently and handed Simon the pipe.

“A tear in the eye is a wound in the heart...Come...let us have some singing...We say only bad people do not sing and we are all good at this table”. He stood, and unhooked a small box bag from the roof and pulled out a squeeze box...and drunkenly began to play and sing…

It was hilarious, and wonderful and made me think of my grandparents, one Scot one Irish singin’ there hearts out at Christmas. He taught us a romany drinkin’ song in English and we sang it over and over until our throats were hoarse. The sun went down and we realised we had been there until after ten. The lonely gypsy lit us a lantern and he stood in the doorway with his now hooded hawk, which presumably slept in the vardo with him and the dog. He waved us goodnight and said if we wanted to we could hunt again tomorrow. We staggered back to the tent still singin’ and once inside immediately fell asleep.

When we awoke the next mornin’...we experienced our first real hangover. I was so sick, I got up to go take a shit in the ‘hole in the ground’ toilet we had made deep in the wood, and puked on my own feet. Simon was not much better, but maybe bein’ a year older he had a slight advantage. I collected a bucket of water and soaked my clothes. Whilst only wearin’ my shorts and a t.shirt I realised quite ‘ow chilly it was...the weather was changin’. The sky was a rolling blanket of grey clouds, rain was on the way. I returned to the tent where Simon was sitting in the doorway stroking Orlas, would was lying on his back panting; Tibor standin’ talking to him whilst lightin’ our fire. The man looked at me grinnin’…

[Hand in glove

The Good People laugh

Yes, we may be hidden by rags

But we've something they'll never have]

“My young friend is hurting yes?” I moaned and held my stomach. Floppin’ down next to Simon, who looked rather suspicious wearing nothin’ but shorts sitting in our spliced sleeping bags. Tibor quietly went about makin’ some very strong, strange black coffee and poured us all a cup. He added some herbs and handed us a freshly stuff pipe of hash…claimin’ it would chase away the devils in our heads. It did...whatever was in the coffee combined with the smoke made me feel ‘almost’ human again.

We talked a little with him and he explained that there was rain comin’ and that it would not be a good day to fly the bird. I was disappointed, but feelin’ so ill I was slightly relieved. He said he was going to risk walkin’ to the nearest village to see if one of the cottages would sell him some eggs and cheese. He would be back later. We should’ve offered to go for him but just the thought of walkin’ those three miles or so turned my stomach.

Instead, we thanked ‘im for the coffee and after strip washin’ and cleanin’ our teeth Simon and I crawled back into bed. We wrapped our limbs around each other, the caffeine keeping us awake we just led there talkin’ about Tibor’s family, and travellin’... We began to make plans, idealist daydreams and promises.

“We’ll travel, Rome, Barcelona, Paris, Budapest...I want to see it all.” I laughed at Simons words...the likelihood was we would both end up posted in foreign climes, being shot at.

I smiled stroking his hair “If we ever lose each other like Tibor an’ Lyuba...we should arrange to meet somewhere…” He jokingly continued but I don’t think he realised ‘ow I would always remember it.

“Paris...Père Lachaise Cemetery...I will scrawl messages on Jim Morrisons grave like they used to every year until you come back.”

I kissed him gently and said no more...eventually we fell asleep but was rudely awakened several hours later by a loud rumble of thunder several miles away. Simon began to panic…

“Oh God...a storm...shit what will we do?.” I assured him we would be fine as long as we brought everything in the tent. We went about doin’ just that. We cleared the bivi and put every scrap of food, double bagged in the tent. Secured the pans and other outdoor gear under the bivi’s cover and checked the tent pegs. The ground we were on was a little higher than the field because we were so close on the edge of the woods; the trees would also give us some cover. I listened to them creaking and rustlin’ as the wind built up. I pulled on my jeans, my other trousers still wet from being cleaned. We put on our uniform jackets and even our berets as the temperature dropped.

We had just zipped ourselves in the tent when were heard someone outside. My hand went to the gun hidden under the sleepin’ bags. The tent unzipped slowly and we were glad to see Tibor, his hair wet from the drizzle of rain that had started to fall. He pushed the dogs nose away who was trying to get inside to see Simon. I explained that we were worried because we thought someone had been watching us again and his smile dropped.

“Police? I had problem in the village...a policeman asked me where I was staying.” He shrugged and opened up a large bag pullin’ out one of the large goat and sheep skin patchwork blankets from the caravan. Then reachin’ in again he pulled out a bottle of pálinka, some fresh bread and cheese…

“Take these, I bought too many. Don’t drink all the drink in one go eh? “ We knew he was lyin’ but we thanked him for his generosity. Lastly he reached inside his jacket and withdrew two brown rabbits feet. He said had made them from previous kills and sometimes gave them to people who had helped him...to bring ‘good luck and happiness’. They were small and neat paws with sharp little claws and little white pads underneath. The dried bones where they had been cut off were over stitched with leather.

We thanked him...for everything...the look on his face was sad, and we realised he was moving on. The kind man shook both our hands through the door of the tent and he gently kissed the knuckles.

“Stay safe my friends...and good luck in everything you do. Save many lives and protect your love”. The last piece of advice confused me and I thought he had said loves...but he definitely said ‘love’.

I asked if he would be okay, but he assured me the little caravan had seen worse. With that the clouds opened and the rain came down hard...he hurried away without looking back into the woods, the dog running behind him, his tail low.

I turned to Simon, his eyes were red and like me he wasn’t sure what to say…It all seemed very final. We were alone again and the storm was comin’. The sky went black, the thunder drew closer...and we pulled the fur blanket over the sleeping bags and held each other close. Simon whimpered into my chest. He was genuinely petrified. This intelligent boy who seemed fearless, was frightened out of his wits of the lightning that followed. He revealed he had once been ridin’ in the woods near his mother's stables and a sudden storm had blown up. The lightnin’ made his horse bolt an’ he was thrown, knockin’ himself out. When he woke he was in the middle of the rain, cold and wet; the horse no where to be seen.

 

[Hand in glove

The sun shines out of our behinds

Yes, we may be hidden by rags

But we've something they'll never have]

His eyes were wide and he was shakin’. I tried to convince him we were safe...but even I was worried by the lightnin’, a little panicky that it would hit the tent or the trees above us. I silenced him with a kiss, my tongue teasin’ his. It was then...then it happened. He whispered quietly against my mouth.

“MmmI...loveyou.” He bite his lip as he pulled away, his face blushin’ rose in the lantern light; then he whispered again, looking into my eyes. He request made me feel hot and embarrassed but it was the most amazin’ thing I had ever heard since he had asked me to take his virginity six months before. “Make love to me...Bastian…please, I beg you.”

As the rain on the tent deafened us, the humidity risin’, we began to slowly remove each others berets, jackets, shirts and belts. His skin was hot against my lips and I pushed our trousers and shorts around our ankles...My cock swollen and ready, I entered him, raw and sensitive. He whimpered against my neck and wrapped his legs around my back. I took me sometime to adjust, so dry at first I moved carefully, deliberately slow and steadily rocking into him. It became easier as his relaxed. Soon, we were moving together as one, no words, no thoughts…just the sound of the rain, the touch of the skins on my back, his legs tight around me. It was perfect.

The longer we fucked, the louder our voices became over the rain...we came together, hard and in crescendo, as our orgasm subsided I realised the storm had moved on several miles away; the rain lighter and the sky brightening. I stayed inside him, his sticky semen slowly drying, against our stomachs… He laughed and kissed me again…

“I’m not scared anymore”.

[I love you]

I thought I had said it during our lovemakin’ but...I was unsure. We pulled our trousers back up and fell asleep again till early morning.

[And if the people stare

Then the people stare

Oh, I really don't know and I really don't care

There's no shame, no.]

A new day dawned and it was warm and the sun shone brightly, quickly drying up the sodden ground and our gear. We hung my wet clothes, the tarpaulin and tin mugs and cooking stuff from the rope between the trees and on the tent poles. We ate bread and cheese and drank warm tea. It felt like a new beginnin’ again...especially for me...now I knew how he really felt.

We walked into the woods to see if Tibor had survived the night...but we weren’t really surprised when we found the camp empty. The little space it had occupied in the clearin’ of the trees was flattened, but dry. He must have left early in the mornin’. We held hands and kicked the dirt into the dead fire. I felt a deep sadness and Simon must ‘ave too…

“I hope he finds his family”

“Me too…”

I guessed the storm and the humidity would have grounded all the rabbits until the mornin when the sun had warmed the ground. They would be out in force, so we walked to the farm to see Farmer Siskins; in case he wanted any ‘elp with anyfin’. We had a few days left and the bread and cheese would be gone by the evenin’. He asked us about the storm and how we ‘ad managed and we made excuses about extra tarpaulin and wha’ave you ; tryin’ not to give anythin’ away about Tibor. He wanting some rats shootin’ instead of rabbits and since we had been before, he had bought some more pellets for his son’s old air rifle; that he now gave Simon to borrow. Si wasn’t the best shot in the world but I gave ‘im a hand and we took out any we could find in the barn. I quite like rats...but it earned us a good home cooked meal of Shepherds pie and at lunch time and Mrs Siskins gave us a loaf of bread, a chicken pie, eggs and some veg. If we were careful it would last the last two days.

When we got back to the tent...it was like before. Someone had been through it, but nothin’ was missin’. Our clothes had been rifled through but stuff back in our bags. It was eerie. We knew that Tibor certainly hadn’t done this, he was probably miles away by now. Simon looked pale and worried, he held tight on to my arm and looked around into the trees. There was nothin’…

“Simon, wha’s wrong?”

“I think...this is someone from School”

“...but...wha’ you mean the Captain?”

“No...someone else”...

[So, hand in glove I stake my claim

I'll fight to the last breath

If they dare touch a hair on your head

I'll fight to the last breath]

The light was fadin’ and because of our fears we hid in the tent, looking through our work books and sketches, adding a few things here and there. Simon writin’ entries in his diary about the things we claimed to ‘ave done, and the things we actually did.

We did little else the next day except play cricket, and lie around in the sun reading. We came across some liberty caps by the edge of the field, and in our young crazy disregard for our lives we picked them. I even drew a few labelling them Psilocybe semilanceata underneath. Maybe the masters wouldn’t recognise the ‘magic’ shrooms.

When it got too hot at lunchtime we went to the stream, had masturbated together in the water. It cooled us down even in the heat of passion; then we let the water dry on our skin as we walked back to the tent.

[For the Good Life is out there somewhere

So stay on my arm, you little charmer]

It was officially our last night so we brought out the pálinka and made a feast. Taking any rubbish, things we weren’t taking back to school, and any dry dead branches we could find that had broken from the trees in the storm; we made a larger fire away from the tent. The tinder caught easily and bringin’ the gypsies blanket, our food and drink with us; we put the shrooms in a billy kettle full of water on the fire and brewed ‘magic’ tea.

It was then...through the flames we saw someone walkin’ towards us…

[But I know my luck too well

Yes, I know my luck too well

And I'll probably never see you again

I'll probably never see you again

I'll probably never see you again

Oh …]

*****

****  
  



	10. Bring on the dancing horses (Lips like sugar).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 10: Bring on the dancing horses (Lips like sugar)
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, BDSM. Drug taking....
> 
> Music: Echo and the Bunnymen - Bring on the dancing horses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

[Jimmy Brown

Made of stone

Charlie Clown

No way home]

The firelight flickered and the figure approached silhouetted against the setting sun; a large bulk upon their back, hunched over with the weight. It was only when they reached the fireside their face was visible and a ruff of gold burnished hair recognisable.

Simon jumped up first and ran to Jonathan Pederson and embraced him tightly, nearly knocked the boy with his heavy rucksack to his feet. I stood and helped him take off the back pack. He looked somehow different, older, and a little slimmer from his trip. It had only been about a month or so but I guess at that age you grow quickly and it’s not noticeable to anyone accept your parents.

His voice was deeper as he spoke and his pale Scandinavian skin flushed with freckles and the light of the fire.

“Fuck Moran you look taller…” I grinned at him…and patted his back and asked him why he was there…

His parents had argued all the way through there European trip and after Spain, Petey had asked to leave and return to England. He had been back to the School when ‘Bunny’ Montague-Harris had informed him Simon and I were still camping. He had grabbed want he could to be comfortable for the night and come straight back out across the fields. Despite this last night belonging to Simon and I, we both welcomed Petey’s company; it was wonderful to see a familiar friend again.

We told him everything, about the gun, hunting, Tibor the Gypsy, his dog and hawk. Simon spoke of the ‘God awful’ storm but by-passed how it had terrified him or how we had coped with it by making love under the goatskins; but he grabbed my hand and held it tight as he spoke. I saw Petey’s eyes reflecting the fire as they flashed between he pair of us in rapt awe; his broad white smile infectious as we poured him out some of the Pálinka into one of the tin cups.

He laughed and said he had already experienced this stuff on his travels. He downed the sweet fiery liquid without a wince or expression and held out his cup for another. He had his own stories to tell us and with a loud chuckle he told us what had happened in Spain.

Due to his light skin and temperament he took siestas every afternoon, but went swimming in the cooler air every evening. On the beach he had met a local girl of our age and after a week of flirting and walking hand in hand he had lost his virginity to her in the dunes. We sat open mouthed and engrossed in the tale. Simon in his typical spoilt brat over the top manner jokingly accused him of lying. The proof of his loss of innocence came in the further details he gave and Simon squealed and put his fingers in his ears at the gory details. I laughed and asked him more to wind Simon up and Petey produced a Polaroid picture of a sixteen year old girl wearing a tight swimsuit, wet from swimming; water clinging to her pert breasts and dripping from her long dark damp hair. I was very impressed, she was very pretty.

We shared the Pálinka and brewed the shroom tea beside the fire. Persuading Petey to try some we passed it between us. The taste was disgusting so we added some sugar and chewed gum to take the bitterness away. We chewed on the left over mushies and talked happily whilst we waited. Wrapped in blankets, we sat a bit further away from the fire which was heating our faces, the smoke staining our hair; we would all need to bathe in the stream in the morning. The effects took some twenty minutes or more and mine came on suddenly…

I was looking into the fire, Simon's hand in mine and the flames began to change from orange to intense reds and deep purples. The flickering was fascinating. I turned to Simon who was staring at my face. He said nothing but broke into a soft smile… Peter on the other side of him stood and walked slowly behind me and sat down, legs splayed on the ground, looking at the goatskin blanket in his lap and laughing loudly…

“You feel it?” He just nodded and said my words had colours…I turned back to Simon and stood; I felt suddenly too hot and started to strip. I wasn’t sure if he felt the same or he just thought it seemed like a good idea…He started to remove his clothes too.

Petey slumped back to his elbows and tilted back his head looking at the night sky; the stars twinkling, not white but electric blue in the dark blue velvet…I looked up too and saw the full moon shed itself of its cloak of cloud. As it shone gold on my skin I raised my arms…I felt strangely spiritual standing sky clad under the large Summer moon.

Simon was on his knees, arms wrapped around my thighs and talking about the clouds being horses…I looked down and stroked his hair, as he tilted his face up to me I saw his eyes as dark rubies the strange lights of the fire flickering in them. I sank to my knees, the now damp grass soft around my legs. I pressed my mouth to his and we kissed for what seemed like an eternity…It was probably only moments but I will never forget it.

[Bring on the dancing horses

Headless and all alone]

My skin felt like it was burning, his like ice…I wanted to absorb him into me…Petey watched us, sitting again, crossed legged and occasionally holding up a hand and waving it slowly in front of his face. I guess now he was watching the distorted movements and colour trails he may have been experiencing. I pushed Simon slowly down onto his back, and opened his legs…I must have kissed every inch of his skin, my mouth desperate for a taste of him…I can’t remember what I was thinking as I pushed into him, raw burning and tight. I fucked him slowly as we kissed and each time I opened my eyes, I was filled with an acute feeling of need and love. I withdrew and turned him over onto his knees and he laughed erratically…

Petey had crawled closer and only a few feet away was watching, fascinated , reaching out a hand, he gently brushed a hand over the skin of Simon's back. I re-entered him and felt the vibrations of his voice through my thighs moving to a tingling sensation in my mind. The grass below us rippled in the warm air and I was convinced it was water, it flowed around us is swathes of blue and green. I lost any knowledge of time and my movements were slow. I felt him tight around me but was no-where near to orgasm…

I continued, as distracted, I spoke to Petey about his hands; watching the light trails behind them. Simon moaned and spoke incoherently; he reached out in front of him and held something up in the light of the fire. It looked like he was holding a flame, as though it had jumped from the fire into his fingers. I told him to ‘be careful or he would burn himself’.

He gave the flame to Petey and I stared as he passed it to me. Once it was in my hand I then realised it was a shard of glass from an old coke bottle. I held it a loft and looked through it, the lights and colours beyond distorted. Simon moaned and mumbled something and the words even now stick in my mind…

“Do it…cleanse me with it…”

 

[Shiver and say the words

Of every lie you've heard]

Looking back he was taking a hell of a risk considerin'…I was drunk, and trippin'. I held the glass blade to the back of his neck and dragged it, it was pretty blunt but sliced an inch long cut into his skin. He whined loudly, which to me sound like a pony whinnying. Where his shoulders were higher than his hips the blood seemed to crawl down his back and ribs…I put my hand to it as Petey whispered somewhere inside my head. I threw the blade into the fire and it clinked as it hit the stones and dry wood inside.

“Moran, you’ve freed him”…I laughed and increased my movements. Petey stood, took off his tee shirt and threw it into the fire, laughing as it went up in smoke. Little crackles and sparks popped and spat flakes of ash into the air. He watched them for a moment and came to stand in front of us. I was groaning loudly and spreading the blood across Simon’s back; it swirled colours like petrol in water.

Simon, reached up with one hand as his arse bounced off my thighs as I continued to fuck him. His fingers worked at the zip of Petey's jeans. He pulled out his half hard cock and giggled as he pulled him closer by it and sucked it into his mouth. Petey held his head and stared at me, a small smile on his lips. I reached out a blood red hand and slid it across his stomach.

“Blooded with your first kill Pederson…” He tilted back his head laughing and looked again to the stars as Simon continued to push him into his throat. This could have been twenty minutes, it could have been an hour. I have no idea. Eventually though my orgasm imminent I felt elated and saw a great bird fly across the sky above the Danish boys head…He had already come and Simon was licking a mixture of blood and cum from his groin. I came hard and my head exploded with fire and colour.

[First I'm gonna make it

Then I'm gonna break it

Till it falls apart

Hating all the faking

And shaking while I'm breaking]

Then there was the come down… We dragged the blankets and some of the stuff back to the tent. Petey trying to carry his ruck sack, flies still undone and staggering behind us. The fire would burn itself out; there was no chance of it spreading, we had built it too well.

We woke the next day with very little knowledge of what ‘happened after the ritual at the fire. I came to with a dry tongue, Simon still naked wrapped around me; dry blood on his face and in splotches all over his body. Petey was still wearing his jeans and had put all the blankets over our naked frames. He looked cold and I smiled, gently kissing his forehead, before pulling a blanket over him.

Feeling around I found the cigarette packet on the floor, and then crawled out of the small tent on all fours and stood; shielding my eyes from the morning sun.

Sitting naked on the log, I lit up, bark sticking in my arse, I smoked slowly and squinted at my skin; hands and stomach stained red with blood. Jesus, if anyone had seen me…I looked like I had murdered someone.

The fire in the distance was still smouldering, soft curls of black smoke rising from the ashes and decided to put it out. I looked around for my boots and not finding them just walked naked, with a bucket of rain water in hand to the embers. I threw the water on the fire and it hissed at me. I noticed a scrap of Petey’s tee shirt in the debris and laughed. Pushing my feet into my boots I bent lacing them up with a groan. I couldn’t see my clothes or Simon's anywhere…just his boots, led where he had thrown them. A large brown snail was happily crawling into one; I tipped it out, checking for any other little squatters. I tied the laces together and strung them around my neck. Picked up the bucket, filled it with any rubbish, and food we had left. The bottle of Pálinka was still sat at an angle in a grass verge; It was still half full so I un-popped the cork and drank a little as a hair of the dog.

Where the hell were our clothes?

I dumped the stuff and crawled back in the tent; Simon had rolled over and was now wrapped around the Dane. I smiled and slid my self against his back and looked at the cut on his neck, the blood crusty and black. I kissed his shoulder blade and dozed happily. He was mine now…I owned him…No one was going to take him away from me.

An hour or so later we woke again and as the two other boys stirred I asked them about the clothes. None of us knew where they were…as far as we knew; we had left them near the fire. Someone had taken them, jeans, tees and underwear; clearly our watcher had either seen us the night before or had been up early enough to take them. Petey had a few spare things and we still had our uniform fatigues. We dressed in towels, shorts and boots and walked to the stream. It didn’t take much to persuade Petey to get into the cool water with us. The sun was getting hotter and the water was the best way to cool down; plus he looked like he was feeling a little uncomfortable about being covered in Simon’s blood still. I cleaned his wound and dressed it. It would be fine, but being Simon he insisted he see the nurse when we got back to school in case he needed antibiotics.

I was so tired and I think we both felt a little sad about the end of our time together. This had been the best experience of my life so far. I knew I was only fourteen but I felt like I had grown mentally as well as physically. It was a time that would live with me forever; especially as I did not know what the rest of my time at school or the horrors my future held.

[Your brittle heart]

We went back to the camp and began to packed our bags, collect rubbish. I hid the Pálinka in a towel and pushed it into the bottom of Simon's ruck sack. We would share the rest another time. I dug over the latrine hole, buried what their was of the uneaten food; a few soft biscuits crawling with ants and the one rabbit that was left, it smelt pretty bad and was attracting large bluebottles. Once I had finished I attached laces to the two rabbits feet Tibor had given us and after showing Petey, Simon and I proudly hung them around our necks.

Bivi, and tent packed away, everything present and correct we started to make our way across the fields. The first thing we did was return the Cricket set to the Farm and thanked them for all their help; but gently asked them not to tell anyone from the School. The Farmer’s wife hugged Simon and I and shook Petey’s hand, than gave us all a fresh baked pork pie each and wished us well. She looked a bit upset; like she was really waving the three of us off to war.

[Billy stands

All alone

Sinking sand

Skin and bone

Bring on the dancing horses

Wherever they may roam]

We went back to the School and it was clear by the beginning of the new term, the dynamics between Simon and the rest of the boys from the ‘misfits’ club was changing. He was becoming more distant and holding meetings in his room less and less. Only Petey and I were eventually allowed to share his bed, fags and nights of listening to new cassettes and 12 inches. He sank further into his dark wave and alternative bands and seemed more introverted than he had been.

Both Petey and Simon had more mocks coming up straight after that Christmas in preparation for their GCSEs in the following Summer. They spoke at length about coursework, revision and previous exam papers. I was beginning to feel a little left out. I began to wonder whether Simon was fucking Petey, but when I pretty much asked him if this was the case he slapped me hard around the face.

It was mid October and we were stood in the main corridor to the gymnasium, he wearing his fencing whites and me in my boxing vest and shorts. The slap echoed around the gym and several other boys passing jeered and laughed. I went red with anger.

“What the fuck did you do tha’ for?” Simon gritting his teeth, mask and epee in one hand growled before whispering harshly…

“Did you ask me whether I was fucking Petey? No…I am not, and would not. Just shut up Moran.” I winced, hated it when he called me Moran and not Sebastian or Bastian.

[Shiver and say the words

Of every lie you've heard]

 

“Sorry…I just…I know you are busy. I just…wanted to see you a bit more.” He looked up and down the corridor, made sure no one was around before pecking my lips with a small smile.

“Look, come stay with me at Christmas…Petey is away and I need someone to save me from my God awful mother. I could persuade her to let you to sleep in the room next to mine…there is an adjoining door.“ He raised his high thin arched brows and smiled. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

“Yeah, okay…I’ll ask my Aunt. I expect Mum wouldn’t mind…or care”.

So that decided I had something to look forward to, and with Simon's assurance that he wasn’t fucking his room mate I was happy again. I went to classes, did my work, and a little distracted by music, and my classmate’s sudden growth spurts, physically and hormonally. Boys constantly passed dirty magazines instead of comics around the dorms now. I spoke nothing of my sexual preferences, knowing they were probably a year behind myself I did not want to draw attention to them.

Occasionally, Teddy would come into our year’s dorm and sit on my bed and talk in whispers about the others. He worried about the way Michael was treating him and I said I would speak to the other boy who was in Simon’s year. I had suspected for sometime Michael not interested in Teddy emotionally. It was just lust, and the boy, only thirteen still looked a lot younger. He was such a sweet kid, with his cherubic curls and plump mouth. I could see why Michael wanted him but it made me feel a little uneasy after what had happened to me.

 

[First I'm gonna make it

Then I'm gonna break it

Till it falls apart

Hating all the faking

And shaking while I'm breaking

Your brittle heart]

 

Simon’s mood swings were dark as the approaching winter skies, he took to sitting reading his Science revision every break, we barely spoke when we were together and even the sex seemed to be less desperate and needful. I tried to push any doubt to the back of my mind and accept this is the way it would be until after his exams. Gratefully though when Christmas arrived and the end of term was marked with the School Christmas lunch and games he was in good spirits and he even managed to sneak a bottle of gin to me to take into the dorm rooms and pass it around before lights out. The prefects instead of confiscating it took several swigs and told us to keep it down or they would inform the whips.

Once everyone fell into a deep sleep I snuck out into the corridor and went to his room. With Petey asleep already we curled together in the bed, keeping the freezing cold air out. Wrapped in our pajamas, blankets and wearing thick woolen hats pulled down over our ears we kissed and touched each other through the layers of materials, giggling and secretive, more like the first days. After an hour I reluctantly left him and returned to the dorm, curling up in my own bed; cold again, a little lonely but looking forward to the holiday.

It was Friday the 23rd of December and everyone was excited to be going home; or the few that were staying anticipated the fun of having the corridors and dorms to themselves. Everyone prayed for snowfall before Christmas, the sky was a silver grey, the clouds heavy but all they brought that day was rain.

[Brittle heart

Brittle heart

Brittle heart

And my little heart

Goes]

I waited by the gate for Simon, who had instructed to ‘be there by 1100 hours sharp; for his ‘driver’ to take us home.

By his driver he meant Bunny Monatague-Harris. My heart dropped into my stomach and I sighed as I saw the Head Masters car approach. Simon got out of the passenger seat and picked up my bag, throwing it into the backseat.

“Get in Se..Moran…It’s freezing.” I opened the back door and slid into the seat having to bend, so as not to hit my head on the frame. Bunny was in a jovial mood and made light conversation with Simon and I, as he drove. Thankfully it was a short one, the rain came down in heavy sheets and water sprayed against the windows as passing cars whizzed through the water on the road. He hummed a long to Christmas songs on the crackling radio and within a short time I started to doze.

I knew Simon’s family lived in Berkshire but was unsure where… I woke as we entered the village of Bray on Thames and was shocked at how affluent it was. There was a parish church, almshouse and twisting streets that hugged the bend of the Thames…Tudor buildings turned into public houses and hotels. On the other side of the village the road split and we followed a road into a wooded area; the many skeletal trees pushing their fingers up into the darkening sky. We passed a large block of building which I assumed were Simon’s mothers stables as he pressed his nosed against the window to look at the horses walking back through the rain to the yard. He broke his sleepy silence excitedly.

“Miri has Daguerre is out…Look, the black one, with one white sock…that’s my horse.” I sat up and peered through the rainy window. A beautiful black gelding wearing a blue horse coat was being walked by a young woman towards the field. I’d almost forgot the older man was there…

“Daguerre? Who’s the girl...Miri?” Bunny interrupted before Simon could speak.

“Miri is Miriam…my daughter.“ He flashed a look at me in the rear mirror.

 

[She floats like a swan, grace on the water

Lips like sugar, lips like sugar

Just when you think you've caught her, she glides across the water

She calls for you tonight to share the moonlight]

“Oh, sorry Sir…I didn’t even know you ‘ad a daughter.” He chuckled and carried on driving, until we came to a gateway, opening into the large driveway of the house, we passed a small cottage in the grounds.

It was a large imposing building comprising of two parts, one early 19th century styled painted white and the other in dark red brick; probably built in the early 20th century, to make the house bigger for a larger or extending family.

‘Bunny’ parked the car in front of the house and the door opened a friendly faced middle aged woman in a pinafore greeted him as he entered. He smiled and pecked her cheek. I thought at first this might be Simon’s mother but she was nothing to what I had expected, after the picture he had painted of her. She blushed and called him Captain, so it was clear she was probably just the housekeeper, and quite possibly had a bit of a thing for the old fella. She wished him a ‘Merry Christmas’ in a local accent and ushered us all inside. Simon dropped our bags inside the door and pecked the woman on the cheek before introducing me whilst Bunny hopped off to the other room, mumbling about needing a drink.

“Peggy, this is my friend Sebastian from School; he’ll be staying over Christmas…please make him welcome. “ I stood straighter, taking my hands from my pockets and held it out for her to take. She politely did so and Simon winked at me from behind her back.

She told Simon bossily to take the bags from the hall and wash up for lunch. Once he was out of the room she started to bustle about the room and told me to wash my hands and make myself useful. I liked her, she, like the Farmers wife reminded me of my Nanna so I did as I was told. After a few minutes she placed a plate of freshly sliced bread and a brick of butter on the table.

“Butter them up lovey and we’ll ‘ave a chat…” I did as I was told and started to help her make quite a few roast beef and ham sandwiches. She asked me questions about where I was from, whether I enjoyed school and how I ended up friends with Simon.” She was a little nosey, but I didn’t mind, it was nice to talk freely about my background, my Dad and where I had lived. After some twenty minutes Simon came back into the kitchen to collect me…

He had washed and changed and was not wearing his usual black garbe but smart blue jeans and a polo shirt and dark blue jumper. I tried not to laugh as he dragged me out of the room.

“Oh man…what do you look like?” He laughed as he caught my wrist leading me through the house. It was a dark, and wood paneled a little like school, the walls covered in 18th century paintings of horses and photographs of various breeds of dogs. The thin corridors were cold and he rushed me through them to a steep stairs; which wound around to the top of the house. Some three story’s up. Then we came to a set of small steps and entered the attic rooms.

“These were just part of the attic originally, but mother had them decorated. I like them. This will be yours and mine is through there. The room was modern with white walls and a large double bed was positioned under the window. Very little light came in through the small frame so Simon had turned on the light. It was cosy, and there was an old sofa positioned at the bottom of the bed facing a wardrobe and dresser on which sat a small TV. It seemed a little warmer here than downstairs and I noticed a large modern wall radiator which was the source of the heat.

“I like it…” I walked to the window and the saw the grounds to its full extent, a ten acre piece of land with gardens and a small orchard; the Stables visible also in the distance. I noticed the cottage again near the gates.

“This place is pretty cool, what’s the cottage for?” Simon opened and shut some of the drawers on the dresser and mumbled.

“Oh, that’s where Bunny and Miri live…” There she was again…Miriam, his cousin.

“You never told me you had a cousin or Bunny had a kid. What’s she like?”

He sniggered and took my hand. “She’s a slut and a bitch…no, I love her dearly…like my sister…but she’s still a slut and a bitch. Come see my room."

He led me to the next room, which looked much more like his room at School. The white walls invisible behind an array of posters of New Wave, Goth and Indie bands…a large battered brown soft toy horse lay on the bed, squashed and had clearly been his favourite at some time. One side of the room held a large book case which was so full of books it had been screwed to the wall to stop it toppling. He had a large wooden double bed covered in thick crocheted blankets and a rather expensive stereo system and turntable sat on a chest of drawers. No TV, he wasn’t really interested in TV very much but would probably use the one in the other room if he wanted. A couple of real sheepskin rugs lay on the floor…one had been dyed black.

“This is brilliant…wish mine at home was this cool.” I bounced on the bed and grinned at him as he shut the door.

“We’d better go down in a minute for lunch…kiss me first though” He sat next to me and draped his arms around my neck. He seemed relaxed and happy and knowing this it made me relax. I began to French him, my tongue swirling around his mouth. My trousers strained at my growing hard on, but then there was a loud bang on the door and a girls voice carried through the wood. Like Simon's it was upper class but didn’t match the content.

“Simon you little fucking little shit, you owe me ten pounds, three cigarettes and an eighth of blow. You also have to come down for lunch or Moany Maggie is going to lose her curlers.” Simon laughed and stood to get the door. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and leant forward trying to hide the bulge in my jeans. He opened the door and a girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tight black jodhpurs and a baggy arran jumper strode into the room. I looked up as she stopped directly in front of me. I stood, forgetting my predicament and looked down at her. She was a lot shorter than Simon and a lot prettier than Bunny. Simon sighed…

“Miri, meet Sebastian, Sebastian meet the bane of my life… Miriam. “ She thrust out a delicate hand to me and smiled, red lipstick perfectly applied to her lips. My heart skipped slightly, and I shook her hand weakly.

“Hello Sebastian, my, you are a big boy for your age” She giggled and I felt very uncomfortable and blushed profusely. Simon stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Behave Miri…” He whispered in her ear so I could hear. “He’s mine.” I raised my eyebrows at him.

"It’s okay darling…she knows. She’s the only one who does. I told h…” She interrupted and poked him in the ribs.

“You never told me, I guessed…mainly because you never wanted to kiss me. Everyone else does.“ She winked at me and turned to the door once more. “Hurry up boys, you can snog later, I’m hungry. Daguerre is feisty today, Simon. You should take him out soon…show the boy who’s boss…and the horse.” Her words faded as she went down the stairs. I turned to Simon a little panicked.

“You never told me anyone knew…I’m gonna feel paranoid everyone is looking at me now.” He stroked his hands down my arms.

“It’s fine…she’s mouthy but she is as sweet as a kitten really. She is left school last year and works for mother now. She’s eighteen in eight months and thinks she’s the bees knees…take no notice…” He pecked my lips and smiled” Though do tell me if she does try to kiss you…she is a little tart. I nodded and followed him to descend the stairs, half way down them I looked at my tatty jeans, and jumper.

“Oh shit I never changed.” He waved a hand nonchalantly…

“Don’t worry, do it later…Mother will smell like a bloody horse anyway”. Oh shit…I had to meet his mother…in front of a girl; a very pretty, older, confident, funny, girl…whose mouth intrigued me.

 

[You'll flow in her river

She'll ask you and you'll give her

Lips like sugar, sugar kisses

Lips like sugar, sugar kisses]

I sat in the smaller of two dining rooms eating the sandwiches I had helped make with pickles, cheese and chutneys; listening to Miri and Simon talk ‘horse’ and gossip about people they knew locally. Then Simon’s mother entered like a terrifying but beautiful whirlwind. He was tall and athletic, in her mid forties, older than my mother. Her long blond hair was pulled back into a pleat, and she was clad like Miri in her riding gear, two spaniels running around her feet constantly. She greeted me with a reluctant ‘Hello’ and addressed Simon. Her voice was soft but her presence in the room chilled the air. “Simon, I wish to speak with you later about the Boxing day meet…”

Simon nodded…with a ‘yes mother’ and sighed heavily; with that she took a plate of sandwiches into the other room. Chatting excitedly to the two dogs that padded beside her licking the saliva from their mouths at the sight of the sandwiches.

Simon hung his head, and tilted it in my direction.

“See what I mean?” I nodded sadly. Miriam could see his mothers indifference upset him and she tried to cheer him up, mainly by calling him silly nick names and relaying tales about when they were younger; growing up together. The first time he fell off a horse, the time he crawled into her bed during a storm…That sounded familiar…it couldn’t have been that long ago though. They talked about their aspirations, Simon wanting to be a Doctor like his father. Miriam wanted to write, travel and become a journalist; she was hoping to go to University in the following year and see where it took her. I didn’t mind that she did most of the talking. I liked to watch them interact and she made Simon laugh more than he had in months…and that made me happy too.

After lunch we went for a walk around the grounds, it would be dark soon. It was cold and I wanted to hold Simon's hand but felt awkward with the girl there at first; though I soon relaxed. They showed me all the strange nooks and crannies of the gardens, there was a swing and gazebo, and a folly hidden in the trees. It was great, but must have been more beautiful in the Spring or Summer. I hoped perhaps Simon would invite me again. We sat in the gazebo as the winter sun went down and smoked a joint together. I liked Miriam, she somehow added to the moments Simon and I shared. We could be ourselves around her; it was like she was Petey's substitute while he wasn’t there. She watched as I took his hand and he whispered silly slanderous things about her in my ear.

She spoke... “Kiss him.” I frowned at her…”Go on kiss him…I want to see.” Simon growled at her and was going to bite back at her. When encouraged by her beaming smile I took his chin between my fingers and kissed him passionately. The Gazebo was quiet apart from the creaking of the wood; before the girl squealed with delight.

[She knows what she knows, I know what she's thinking

Sugar kisses, soar kisses

Just when you think she's yours, she's flown to other shores

To laugh at how you break and melt into her lake]

“Oh golly, that is sexy. Damn you Simon, I’m jealous. “We walked back to the house, mellowed from the high. Miriam pecked us both on the cheek and went her own way back to the cottage to have dinner with her father. Thankfully, Simon’s mother was busy and Peggy the housekeeper had also gone home leaving instructions on how to heat our dinner of shepherd’s pie. Hand piped mashed potato swirled in patterns across the top. It smelt delicious. We ate at the kitchen table and I asked Simon questions about the house and his horse. He really was buzzin' being away from the School and the nagging masters always putting pressure on him. With GCSES still in their infancy they were worried about percentages or marks; the onus on them to push their students to do well.

We looked through the larder and found a bottle off dusty sherry and grabbing two mugs took it up to Simon’s room. We sat listening to music and drank until we were sleepy; I returned to my room, first kissing him at the adjoinin' door, before fallin' into bed, still clothed and sleeping till dawn.

I was woken by several things…the Cockerel in the grounds struttin' about, shouting his bloody mouth off. A dog licking my naked foot as it poked out from beneath the sheets and a young woman’s voice whispering seductively in my ear.

“Have you hidden a shotgun underneath the sheets Sebastian” I felt a cold hand slide across my bare stomach and brush the head of my morning erection as he poked out of the waistband of my jeans. I sat upright with a jolt and pulled my jumper down over my knees…hissing…”Jeeessssussss!”.

Miriam laughed and sat down on the end of the bed.

“Simon wasn’t lying then?” She led back on one elbow. She was wearing jodhpurs again and had discarded her jumper which was now tied at her waist. Instead she was wearing a checked white and red cotton shirt, the opening between the buttons revealing a white lace bra. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder and it spread in tendrils across the bed.

“Lying about what?” Simon had stumbled barefoot into the room; also still wearing most of his clothes. I wanted to exclaim…”She touched my cock!” Instead I didn’t say anything but groaned, lying back and hiding again beneath the sheets.

“Nothing to worry yourself about Simon pie-man…” Miri stood and pecked Simon on the cheek, before picking up the spaniel that had followed her and leaving the room. He narrowed his eyes and growled. It was Christmas eve...I was in a beautiful place, with the person I loved; it was going to be the best year ever. We went downstairs and had a hearty cooked breakfast made by Peggy. Simon's mother had already been up several hours, out at the stables and Miri had only come back to wake us. After breakfast I decided I should really check on Mum so I asked Si if I could call her. There was no reply at home or at Auntie Ange's; Simon patted my shoulder and told me to try again anytime I liked…

We wrapped up warm and went outside to brave the cold. The sky was pale and overcast but still no sign of snow. The wind and rain of the previous days had moved north and despite the low temperature the sun was shining. As we approached the stables Simon broke the news to me as to what he had planned.

“I am taking you for your first riding lesson…”I raised my brows and suddenly felt nervous…”You will get bored watching me ride, and if you hang around Mother will have you mucking out the stables all day. “

It sounded like a fair deal to me.

In fact it was a very fair deal. Simon looked fit as fuck in his riding boots and I realised I suddenly had a new fetish. His jet black hair hidden under his riding hat and wearing Salway jacket he looked every bit the posh country kid. I teased him about wearing tweeds next and he slapped me with his pigskin gloves saying ‘they were only for Sundays’.

He introduced me to Daguerre the black Friesian gelding we had seen from the road. The animal was beautiful, standing 15 hands high with a long arched neck, it’s body muscled and it black coat shimmering in the sun. Simon greeted it nose to nose and it recognised him immediately and whinnied loudly. He showed me how to put on it’s halter and lead rope; and how to hold it. Then he showed me how to lead him and turn him. His mother had already brushed him down and he flicked his long tail at the winter midges. I helped him tack up and he mounted him, I was enthralled as I watched him take him out into the field and exercise him. I never noticed Miri standing beside me.

“Beautiful isn’t he?” I turned to her and smiled before turning back.

“Yes, very” I think we were both unsure as to whether either of us were talking about the horse or Simon.

[Brittle heart

Brittle heart

Brittle heart

And my little heart

Goes]

“Watch him for a while, take note of how he sits...and when you are ready come back to the yard...I’ve a horse ready for you...I’ll teach you the basics. I smiled at her, she had lost her smug smile and had replaced it with a gentler kinder one. “sweet as a kitten” Simon had said.

She had tacked up Sorrel, a 15 hand Breton chestnut mare with a golden blonde short mane and tail. After Miri had talked me through a lot of it, helmet on and a little nervous; I mounted the horse from the block. She was gentle and patient with me, as the girl taught me how to start, stop, turn and walk her. I fell in love a little with riding, and Miriam.

After an hour the horse was tiring and my inexperienced backside was getting sore. She lead me back to the yard where Simon was tending to Daguerre, he beamed a smile at us both and addressed Miri.

“How did he do?” Miriam seemed very proud of her student and patted Sorrel’s neck looking up at me.

“He did very well...in fact he’s a bit of a natural...must be all the ‘riding’ you two do together.”

After dismounting I helped unbridle and unsaddle the mare whilst she cooled down. Then Miri handed her over to another stable hand to finish up. The three of us walked back to the house, to get something to eat; and for Simon and I to wash up. Miriam looking rather pleased with herself as she skipped along in front of us, occasionally walking to backwards.

“Bunny” ...because she called her father Bunny most of the time; unless she wanted something, then she would call him Daddy. “Has said it’s okay for me to stay at the house tonight and Christmas day night.. He and Moany Margaret are having a romantic meal together and going to midnight mass; I should imagine Christmas Day he will be pissed and asleep by eight.” I laughed…

“Oh wha’? Is your Dad bangin’ Peggy the ‘ousekeeper?” Simon laughed at me and at Miri’s reaction; she began to pretend to be sick on the side of the drive making retching noises.

“I take that as a yes then?”...It was true...her father was seein’ the housekeeper. Miriam’ mother like her had been bored by the routine of country life and left Bunny when Miri was ten. She now lived in Morocco, running a hotel, married to a local businessman. It was not surprising he always gave her what she wanted. I kinda felt a little sorry for them both. Despite all the money, the house, they were no different from me. They were a little neglected and left to their own devices.

Simon and I took turns to take a bath, I sat in the tub, the hot pipes making creaking and banging noises as the hot water poured in. It eased my muscles and I lay under the water for some time thinking. Once Simon finished his GCSES, if he did well he could stay at the school, move on to his A Levels and eventually University. If he stayed...we could be together longer. I daydreamed about us entering the same regiment, or buying a house together. Me attending his graduation ceremony or him attending my passing out parade, standing with my mother, the twins and my aunt. My thoughts were disturbed by him bangin' on the door asking to use the toilet.

We ate with Miri and his mother in the smaller dining room, a delicious warming stew of brisket and potatoes. I tried not to look like too much of a pig by only having a second helpin'; though I could have gone with a third. Simon's mother barely spoke to me, but did make small talk when Simon mentioned my riding lesson; and my abilities with a rifle. She was still a little preoccupied with the Boxing day hunt and made Simon aware that I would not be able to ride with them. This didn’t bother me, although I enjoyed shooting, and the falconry with Tibor; I had no desire to watch a fox being ripped to shreds on Boxing day. As it turned out Simon wasn’t interested either. He said he was perfectly aware of that and wanted Miri to take his place. Miri kept quiet and watched me with large doe like eyes. Each time she licked her gravy from her mouth my cock twitched, and I coloured up. I could feel Simon watchin' me and he gently nudged my leg with his knee.

After dinner we went up to my room and watched a Sherlock Holmes* film and drank copious amounts of dark rum swigged from the bottle, we talked about music and told Miriam about all the drugs we had tried, though we left out the details of the shroom tea by the fire; that was our secret, just for me, Simon and Petey. At about ten Miriam said her good-nights and after bouncing around awkwardly on Simon's lap she kissed him on the mouth, her red lipstick staining his lips. He didn’t protest as much as I thought he would, though it could have been the rum. She wished us a Merry Christmas and paused at the door to whisper…

“Don’t be too loud”.

...and with a smirk she left.

We had a plan that I had learnt from my cousins...We did everything separately for about half an hour...making as much noise as possible so it looked like we were going to bed in our own rooms. Then after another fifteen minutes, Simon quietly opened the adjoining door, and knowing every creak and squeak of the floor boards crept silently around the room until he climbed into my bed…finally.

Having full sex was just too risky. I wanted him badly but the bed creaked and his mothers room was directly below us. So we sucked each other off and pulled at each others hair, biting and licking ever bare exposed piece of skin. I felt like an animal, ready to tear his throat out. Like one of the dogs with the poor unsuspecting fox. He hissed as I scratched across the now healed thick white scar from the trip at the fireside. My large mouth drew up the blood under his skin, leaving large red marks on his neck…We fell asleep in each others arms, the room colder and eerily silent.

[He'll be my mirror, reflect what I am

A loser and a winner, the king of Siam I am, and my Siamese twin

Alone on the river

Amazing river, amazing river]

I awoke the next day alone...thank fully. The room was still quite dark and a strange silver light crept in through the window. Suddenly the light was switched on, Miri ran into the room and bounced on the bed. She was wearing thick pink cotton pajamas with rabbits on and a fluffy white dressing gown. Her hair in two long plaits, no make up, she looked so young, cute and pretty...I wanted to hug her, like a soft toy.

“Merry Christmas Sebastian...It’s snowing.” I frowned, not quite awake and looked at my watch on the bedside table and moaned.

“Miri it’s five thirty...Sorry did you say snow?” This I had to see...I knelt up and ignoring my hardening morning cock in my pajamas; leaned on the window frame pushing back the curtains. Miri bounced off the bed and padded barefoot across the cold floor to wake Simon, but hearing the commotion he had already put on his dressing gown and opened the door. She flung her arms around his neck and squealed.

“Merry Christmas, look at the snow…”

The three of us knelt at the head of the bed and peered out of the window. It looked magical. It was not /very/ deep, but the snow lay in thick blankets across the fields and the estate. The only marks in it were the tire tracks leaving form the house to the stables where Simon’s mother had immediately left the house after rising to make sure the horses were okay.

We went down to breakfast and were informed of several things by ‘Peggy’ who was a bit grumpy after her late night with the Captain. We suspected she may have been a little hungover…

One, we all had to attend mornin’ mass at the local church...as it was ‘the done thing.’

Two, we had to replace all the drink we had stolen before we left for school and…

Three, that Simon had to cover up the marks on his neck or Miriam's father would not be at all amused.

Miriam smirked knowingly and mumbled, ‘He won’t mind once we are married’. Simon flashed her a warning look and I frowned, confused and bewildered. Simon changed into a high necked jumper and Miri teased him by pulling at the neck to look at the love bites I had inflicted on him.

[Lips like sugar, sugar kisses

Lips like sugar, sugar kisses

Lips like sugar, sugar kisses]

Presents were not to be opened until after lunch and Peggy started to prepare it straight after clearing away the breakfast things. We went to church, we sang, we stood, we sat; It was pretty much like being at school. We threw snowballs at each other on the way back like five year old's until we were soaked through.

When we got back Bunny was already on his second double whiskey, seated at the kitchen table watching Peggy’s arse lustfully.

Whilst waiting for dinner Simon sneaked me away from the others to ‘warm ourselves by the fire’ in the lounge. Simon's mother was sitting reading in there with the dogs, so I wasn’ surprised when he pulled me away to a locked room at the far end of the house on the first floor. We had not been on this one much and I assumed it was mainly guest bedrooms or bathrooms.

He took out a key and quietly looking around he opened the door. We we stepped inside he closed it again, taking the key out of the lock. It was a study, with a dark leather sofa, large men's writing desk and bookshelves covering every wall.

Simon sat down on the sofa. “I felt I had to show you this...it’s my fathers study. I looked at the bookshelves; wall to wall medical journals, anatomy books, books on tropical diseases, surgical procedures. There was nothing unusual about it, it just looked like a normal study belonging to a Doctor. Simon sighed and stood again, taking the key out again, he put his hand in behind a book on a shelf at hip level and opened another door.

“This was his secret room…” We stepped inside and as he turned on the lights, I was immediately shocked by it’s stark contrast to the other room. There was no window, but it had been painted white, filled with more modern furniture and the walls were covered in art; but it was the kind of art that surprised me.

Beautifully rendered paintings and etches of male nudes of varying ages from early teens to older men. Some posed in Greek ideal poses, others in states of copulation. Simon turned in the room and the light caught his damp eyes...He picked out a book from the bookshelves and handed it to me. Erotic fiction, photographs, his fathers own handwritten poetry. It was beautiful, but somehow very sad.

“I don’ understand...was your Dad Gay?”

“Basically yes, officially, no.”

“I don’ understand...but…”

“This is where I found him...here” He pointed at the beam in the ceiling and it dawned on me what he meant. His father hadn’t just died...he had hung himself.

“Oh God Simon, I am so sorry” It was clear his father had hidden this secret…and somehow Simon had stumbled on it. I walked forward and wrapped my arms around him.

“Wha’appened?” He exhaled a long breath before starting…

His father had been his mothers second cousin and due to some stupid archaic rule of their family they had been ‘made’ to get married, or be cut off. There was no love in the marriage, Simon had been a planned contractual baby...he wasn't even sure his father was his father. I couldn't believe it had taken so long to tell me...

“Simon, you could ‘ave told me, I am so sorry...I ‘ad no clue.”

“Sebastian...there is something else I have to tell you…” He looked up and I followed his gaze as the door handled slowly turned; someone else had a key. I gripped his hand tight and bit my lip drawing blood. The door opened and Miri’s perfume wafted into the room.

“Hello Simon, sharing your Daddy’s porn collection?” She sauntered in and looked at the walls and stroked a finger over a painting of a young dark skinned Prince sodomising a slave boy. This one is my favourite, he is quite lovely...like a Arabian stallion. Simon turned away, wiped his eyes and stood.

“Miri, please...I didn’t know you had a key...we were /talking/.” She span around her, with a small smile she said…

“I took a copy...of the key. I lie on the bed sometimes...reading…” She winked at me as she sat on the bed, her short holly green dress riding up her thighs, pale tights clinging to the tight muscles of her legs. “What were you talking about dear heart?”

Simon turned to me and pecks my lips.

“Nothing...nothing that can’t wait”.

[First I'm gonna make it

Then I'm gonna break it

Till it falls apart

Hating all the faking

And shaking while you're breaking

My brittle heart

Brittle heart

Brittle heart

And our little heart

Goes]

*****

 


	11. Pale Shelter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance'
> 
> Part 11: Pale Shelter. 
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, BDSM. Drug taking....
> 
> Music: Tears for Fears : Pale Shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

[How can I be sure ?

When your intrusion is my illusion]

We hurried from the room as we heard Simon’s mother calling us for lunch. The smell of food was making my inside gripe and moan. I decided to be quiet over dinner and ignore Miri. I was angry about the insensitivity she had shown to Si in his father’s room. He seemed to be hitting a low again, I could tell something was bothering him and I began to worry about what he needed to tell me. His mother had placed us ‘boy, girl’ around the table so I had the pleasure of sitting beside Peggy, with Miri at the end closest to me with Simon opposite next to his mother Helen, and Bunny opposite Miri at the other end of the table. Simon looked very uncomfortable and barely spoke to his mother, but made jokes with Peggy and Bunny.

Bunny was quite merry after polishing off a half a bottle of whiskey and now drinking wine with the meal. Miri had been right he would need a kip later. I thanked Peggy for the meal. We had a choice of pheasant or venison. I tried both of course. It was very different from Aunt Ange’s Roast turkey and stuffing, but really delicious. I was missing the twins a bit though, by now they would have finished their meal and would be playing with whatever toys Ange had saved up all year to buy them. I wondered what Mum was doing and felt a pang of guilt that she might be drunk, alone in front of the TV, or going around the pubs desperately searching for some male company. I would ring them after dinner when it was quiet. Miri was a little quieter in the presence of her father and I sensed she was upset at her father having invited the ‘staff’ to eat with them, despite his obvious involvement with her and that she had cooked such a great meal.

After dinner the presents were passed around. Simon received a small array of items, cassettes of a few of his favourite bands, books and from Miri and a purple and black Mohair sweater which his mother rolled her eyes at disapprovingly. Miri received money mainly, a new riding helmet and a new riding jacket. Simon handed me a present with a black bow on it, very him. I looked a little embarrassed. I had something for Simon but I had left it upstairs.

“What’s this” I said nervously.

“A present, silly” Miri laughed and poured herself another glass of wine, she looked like she was determined to get as drunk as her father.

I looked at the tag. ‘Simon x’ He’d put a kiss on it, it made me smile. I ripped open the paper and inside a very old battered box was a World War 1 German Hensoldt-Wetzler Sniper scope, in pristine condition. I was a little speechless. So Bunny piped up…

“Know what it is boy? I answered as if we were still at School sitting up straighter…

“Yes Sir, certainly do. It's  a Hensoldt-Wetzler scope, my Dad told me about these.” I wanted to hug Simon, but had to make do with a thank you and a smile.

“My present is something old too…Sorry Si I left beside the bed upstairs” He grinned…

“Give it to me later…we should go and enjoy the snow again in a minute before it turns to slush.” Miri kicked me under the table…

“Did you get me something Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry Miri, I didn’t actually know you were gonna be here…” She smirked before looking me in the eye…

“It’s okay, you can give me something later too.” Simon threw her a look out of the corner of his eye.

We made our excuses and left the table first taking our things upstairs and putting on our warm jackets. I stuffed Simon's present into my jacket pocket as we made our way downstairs to put on our wellies. Miri was already standing at the door impatiently.

 

[How can I be sure

When all the time you changed my mind

I asked for more and more]

As it was late afternoon the sun had already gone down and it was freezing outside; the moon casting a cold blue light on the snow. We didn’t mind though, we had enough clothes and at that are you never seem to feel the cold much. We lit up our cigarettes and walked towards the gazebo. Miri pulled out a half bottle of whiskey she had swiped from the cottage and we passed it to each other; the smoky tasting nectar warming us from the inside. It was quite dark inside and the three of us huddled together for warmth, Simon in the middle, his arm tight around Miri and my own tight around his waist. We sat quietly for a while a strange awkward silence building between us before Miri whispered to Simon.

“Sorry about what I said about your father.” I felt his breath hitch before he sighed, his breath pushing into the cold air.

“Its okay” He pecked a kiss to her hair. The silence returned and I whispered to him also…

“What did you need to tell me?” Instead of the same reaction they both shifted, sitting up and turning to me. I could see the light reflecting off the snow on to their faces. Miri looked at Simon and bit her lip…

“You said you would tell him…” Simon looked sadly to me and took my hand.

“Sebastian…Please promise you won’t say anything to mother or Bunny…Please don’t be upset…I need to explain something…” My heart was pounding and I suddenly felt sick. I swigged from the bottle and kept it in my lap; I had a feeling I would need it again.

“Just fuckin’ tell me Simon…”

“What I told you about my father…So Miri and I can do what we want…we have to do what /they/ want.” He didn’t mean to sound patronising but I felt like he was ‘talking slower for the boy to understand’. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say before it was said. Miri was looking out at the the snow now, tears glittering in her eyes as she sucked hard at her cigarette, one hand resting on Simon's knee supportively.

[How can I be sure

When you don't give me love

You gave me Pale shelter]

“Simon, just fuckin’ say it…you are dumpin’ me for her aren’t you?” He looked at me wide eyed and his voice high with surprise.

“What? God. No. No …you don’t understand…I don’t…I want you…It’s not like that…it’s just the money, the house, our futures….” He lowered his voice again patiently and prepared himself to say it. “We have to get married or we lose the lot.”

I looked at him open mouthed, stood, downed the rest of the whiskey and violently in temper threw it as hard as I could at the opposite drystone wall, it smashed and the pieces fell silently into the snow. I started to march back towards the house and before long Simon was at my side tugging at my sleeve trying to turn me.

“Please Sebastian, stop, we need to talk about this…” I stopped and looked at him, I couldn’t cry because I was so angry, the muscles in my face solid, my jaw aching from grinding my teeth.

“When? Why? Why Simon? Why do you /have/ to? When the fuck were you gonna tell me? When I got the invitation?”

He placed both his hands on my shoulders and I shrugged them off.

“It’s not yet…I have to do this before I am eighteen…I’m not even sixteen till April…it’s ages yet…and even when it happens I will still be here for you…I promise.” Miri was stood behind me and softly spoke reaching out a small hand to my back.

“I don’t want to do it either but we have no choice. We both want to travel and study…like it or not our bloodline matters when it comes to getting where we want to go. We are going to get the money and the house signed over to us and then bugger off.” I span around to her and shook her shoulders aggressively, her hair tossing forward, falling into her face. She whined with the pain of it…and Simon growled at me to stop.

“But it’s NOT fuckin’ fair you stupid bitch. He is younger than you. Can’t you just say no?” They both answered together solemnly…

“No”.

Letting go, not looking back I left them both standing in the snow, as striding towards the house, the snow crunched hard with new frost under my feet. I flicked the iron latch and opened the door, kicked off my boots and hung up my coat before stomping up the stairs to ‘my’ room.

I wanted to find Miri’s Dad and Simon’s mother and punch the cunt and bitch in their spoilt fucking upper class chops and make them see that their stupid family customs were wrong…but I was a lower class kid with no Dad, a slut for a mother and related to a family of criminals. If someone had offered me the house, the money, a good future and a pretty wife I think I would have gone along with it as well.

I turned on the TV for company and lay face down on the bed. The alcohol breaking down my emotions I began to cry…pathetically, like a baby…like I did when Mum told me Dad had died. I was hurt, confused and all I wanted was to be held.

I sobbed until I began to fall asleep. I don’t know for how long but when I awoke sitting up confused Simon was stretched out across the sofa at the foot of the bed reading one of his new books. On hearing me he sat up and looked at me.

“How are you feeling?” I rubbed my eyes and crawled to the end of the bed and swung my legs over the back of the sofa and sank down next to him.

“Pretty shit...Where is she?”

“In her room pretending she is not well…Whilst drinking a bottle of wine and eating as much Quality Street as one girl can handle. You frightened her, she thought you were going to hit her”

I put my hands over my eyes and wiped them down my face…

“So did I. I’m sorry. I don’t understand it and I don’t like it…but I won’t say anything to your Mum and Bunny about me knowing.” He nodded and reached for one of my hands, pushing his fingers into mine. I spoke again…

“What ‘appens now? With you an’ er?”

“Carry on as normal, I do my GCSE’s, my A Levels then…get married…claim the money and piss off to Uni or the Army? You…you will join up and I will probably never see you again.” His voice croaked and he looked away. “I’ve been kidding myself Sebastian…one day some pretty little girl like Miri with big tits and a short skirt will lure you away. You are not gay, never were; I just refused to believe it.”

I furrowed my brow and stared at my knees, pulled up to my chest.

“No…I do like girls; but tha’s never gonna ‘appen. I promise you tha’…Simon I…” Miri slowly opened the door and peered in whispering…

“Can I come in Simon?” He nodded and looked at me. She had changed into jeans and a v neck pink bat wing jumper; which had slipped off one shoulder.

“Yeah, C’min…Miri…I’m sorry I shouted at you. “ She came in and sat on the floor beside our knees submissively quiet, and nodded.

“It’s okay…we don’t like it either. It would have been okay if we hadn’t both been only children.”

“I’m sorry, I just think it’s a stupid ‘orrible thing t’do to you both.” Simon rested his head on my shoulder.

“Please…let’s not talk about it anymore…We will be back at School soon, lets just enjoy our time together.” Oh shit…I remembered Mum and stood quickly.

“I need to ring home…I forgot. Can I do it now?” He nodded and waved a hand to the door…

“Yes of course…

Downstairs in the hallway, I picked up the receiver of the 70’s style corded phone; It was green with a finger dial and reminded me of the one my Grandparents had. The finger wheel dial purred as I dialed the number. There was no answer at home, no matter how long I let it ring. So I tapped the rest and the dialing tone returned, and redialed to call my Aunt. She picked up in her usual cheery manner, and sounded a little like she had been on the sherry. I could hear the twins in the background laughing and joking about something on the TV. It made my smile...they were twelve now and I had no idea they were my half brothers, but they felt like brothers. I missed them. Ange asked how I was and about my Christmas, and I told her about the horses and the snow. I tried not to let my voice break or sniffle but I was a little home sick. She didn’t mention Mum so I asked her where she was. She said she was sleeping upstairs in the spare room, and had been most of the day. It turned out, not surprisingly, that Mum had knocked on her door at kicking out time, drunk from the pub,crying her eyes out; and fell into Ange’s arms begging her to bring Dad back. I felt embarrassed, a little ashamed that I wasn’t there for her. Despite hating her so much for all the other blokes she slept with, and turning a blind eye to my abuse; I still loved her. She was my Mum.

The boys came to the phone and spoke to me in confusing half sentences where one would start a sentence and the other would complete it. They told me a few bad jokes and things about what was happening with the kids in the street. They cheered me up immensely and I promised I would go home for my birthday in February and take them to the pictures or summat. Ange wrestled the phone back from them, and I heard Jimmy chuckle as his brother got clipped around the ear. She told me she loved me, and that Mum did too; then said goodbye, so she could ‘sort the boys’ out.

My heart was lifted, at least Mum wasn’t alone, I started to make my way back up the stairs and was surprised to see Miri descending them. I automatically put my left hand on the wall to stop her. She settled two steps above me and was tall enough to look me straight in the eyes.

“Where are you going?” She looked tired and her eyes were red; I suspected she had been crying whilst talking to Simon.

“Going to bed, I have to ride tomorrow and I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. “ I stepped up one step and traced my fingers over the skin of her exposed shoulder and felt her shiver. Without thinking I placed a light kiss to her cheek and as my nose brushed hers we slowly tilted our faces to each other.

I kissed her.

I licked at her lipstick and she opened her lips to mine, as our tongues entwined, I closed my eyes and pushed my hands into her hair; she tasted of tannin and chocolate. Suddenly, she pulled away and stared at me…

“I...I thought you hated me…” I shook my head...I would have thought the erection pressed at her hip should have been enough to tell her that.

As I let go of her shoulders she brushed past me slowly, walking down the stairs. I was confused, I didn’t want her to go. She stopped at the turn in the stairs and looked up sadly…I didn’t know what to say so I just watched her walk away. If I had only known then what I know now…

I continued up the stairs and wiped the lipstick from my mouth on the inside of my t.shirt under my jumper, breathed in and out a few times and entered my room. Simon was sat crossed legged on the floor with my present for him in his lap. Sitting down next to him I nodded to the package...

“Open it then…”

He ripped off the paper, inside a small battered box was my Great uncles military compass. A brass cased piece of art with a black and white dial. It was the twin to my grandfather’s, his brothers.

“Sebastian I ...this...I can’t...please tell me this wasn’t your fathers?” I smiled and touched his hand.

“No, my great uncles...I have it’s twin. It means they are connected doesn’t it? If we do get split up...then you can find your way back? Sorry tha’s really cheesy” He laughed and kissed me…

“No, it’s wonderful. thank you…” He stopped and pulled away…”You kissed her didn’t you?”. I couldn’t lie to him, I could smell her perfume on me as well.

“Yes...I am sorry...on the stairs...It was me, don’ blame her. I did it...Simon I…” He silenced me with a kiss.

“I know...it’s okay…”

I was surprised but thought perhaps he was willing to tolerate me fancying her cause I was young and she was attractive; and maybe he felt a little guilty.

We went through our routine again and separated, going to the toilet, brushing our teeth, undressing and putting on our pajamas separately. Simon went downstairs to say goodnight to his mother and returned with two warm milks from Peggy. We shut the doors and sat on our beds with the adjoining door still open. Whilst Simon sat on his bed reading, I picked up the box with the German scope in it. After opening it, I turned it over in my hands, the metal was cold and smooth; I noticed the grey paint had burnished and faded in the areas where the sniper had turned it over and over in his hands whilst clipping it to his rifle. A shiver rippled up my spine with the thought of how much action it may have seen. I put it back in the box and went to turn off the light.

Glancing through the door I saw Simon watching me with a smile, he pulled out his semi hard prick from his pajama bottoms and stroked it. Silently laughing I hand signaled him...’You’, ‘me’ and a ‘O’ with my left hand for ten; meaning ten minutes. He stifled a laughed and covered himself up then turned off his light. I did the same and sank down into the bed smiling. I started to doze and I guessed he had done the same...it was longer than ten minutes when I felt a body slip in beside me.

A kiss was pressed to my cheek and an arm looped around my waist; soft plump breasts pressed against my back; sleepily I mumbled.

“Miriwha’? There was a small giggle in the dark, then a heavier, slim body slid in beside me, angular and hard.

“Yes, Miri...what are you doing?” There was another small giggle before a small pale hand reached out from under the covers and stroked Simon's cheek.

“I came to claim my Christmas present…” I frowned and shifted on to my back and as I did, Miri in a long thick cotton nightdress pushed herself into the gap under my back and wrapped a smooth leg over my hip.

“Fuck...Simon I didn’....” He huffed and placed a cold hand on my jaw. I could barely see either of them in the dark; the moonlight occasionally glinting on the angles of Simon's face. His kisses were desperate and hungry, like he was trying to prove something; maybe show Miri that I was his. I rubbed a hand over the material covering his hard prick and fumbled childlike and confused. He pulled me free from mine and began to pump me slowly making me moan. The girl at my back began to rut against my hip and buttock, I reached an inexperienced hand behind me and stroked the curve of her hip through the material...She wrapped her fingers around my knuckles and catching the hem of her nightgown pushed my hand up underneath it, pressing it to her warm soft pubis, tight curls of hair under my palm. I slipped my hand into Simon's clothing and stroked him in time with his movements...I was so aroused, I was drunk with it. I could feel the sticky dampness in the cleft of Miri’s labia and I tentatively dipped my finger into it, slipping over what I now know to be her clit. I kissed Simon and squeezed him tight as I worked my fingers between her folds, slipping the tips of my fingers inside her. She pushed against them and tried to fuck them. I wanted to turn and see what I was doing but each time I tried to turn my head, Simon grasped at my hair and turned my face back to his. Miri had started to stroke herself with the tips of her fingers and the pair of them moaned in my ears. There was nothing in the world except the bodies in my bed; then a floorboard squeaked outside the door, and we stopped. Simon whispered into my neck…

“Mother?”

We waited...the person moved from the door and went back downstairs...I sighed moving my hand from Miri as she pulled down her nightdress; Simon pulled back, sitting up.

“You had better go down he whispered to her and she rose from the bed and I saw her for the first time as herself. No make up, hair disheveled and panting...she looked more beautiful than ever...She nodded and whispered to me before kissing my cheek.

“Thank you…” and she flitted from the room quietly on small bare feet. Simon watched her go before sinking beneath the sheets again. We masturbated together, pajamas pushed to our knees, and breathing hard into each others ear. My arm wrapped around his neck I could smell Miri on my fingers, my first scent of a woman...I came thinking of her and wondered whether she was thinking of us together as she slid her fingers inside herself in her room below us.

Boxing day was strange...Miri rode with the hunt and Simon on Daguerre helped me walk Sorrel through the woods. We didn’t speak about the night before or his impending future marriage to his cousin. We just pretended everything was fine. His mother did not speak to me again, I felt she realised it had been Simon in my bed.

The day after that, Bunny drove us back to the school. Miri caught me outside having a sneaky fag in the gazebo before we left, she pushed a piece of paper into my hand, without looking I pocketed it and was about to walk away when she blocked my way as I had done on the stairs. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t help it and I pushed her back against the wood and kissed her, aggressively pressing my body to hers. She moaned and scratched at my scalp but did not push me away. I didn’t hear Simon approaching the hut until he hissed at me…

“That’s enough…” We stopped and parted and I left with Simon without looking back. I didn’t look at the paper until I was alone in my dorm bed. It was the address of the cottage and a note: ‘I promise I won’t take him from you. Please stay in touch. Miri x’

New Years Eve we stood by the edge of the lake with the others watching the fireworks and Bunny lighting the school Bonfire. The younger boys had made a guy and given it a white fluffy wig and mustache to look like the head master. We joked about what Miri would say if she saw it; Simon said he wished it was his mother. Micheal stood behind Teddy, one hand on his small shoulder and I didn’t like the way he kept glancing at Simon, there was something of a threat there and Teddy held his head low trying not to catch my eye. I knew I was going to have to do something about this soon; but I just didn’t know what.

[You don't give me love

You give me cold hands]

Simon slipped back into depression and became more withdrawn than ever. We barely spoke when I went to his room. I asked him over and over was it because of Miri or the exams, but he would just say I was ‘being stupid’ and that hurt more than just ignoring me. We would still have sex but his enthusiasm had gone and I was convinced I had done something wrong. I wrote to Miri every few weeks now. At first our letters had been awkward small talk, asking about the horses and how she was; but we began to open up to each other about pretty much everything. When I told her about Simon's moods she said she wasn’t surprised with the exams coming but he had not said anything to her about me. She had assumed we were fine. We both became increasingly worried that he may go the same way as his father and one day...I would find him dead.

The week before my fifteenth birthday I went to see Captn Montague-Harris. I had got to the point where I thought maybe he could speak to Simon, see if he could get him to talk about what was bothering him. I should never have said anything. I went home to see Mum, Ange and the boys. I had a great birthday, we went to see Young Guns and pretended to have a shoot out down the street on the way home. Mum even gave me a present of my father's favourite watch; she managed to stay sober but sobbed in my arms when I had to leave to go back to school. It broke my heart to see such a beautiful women wrecked by a love that probably should never have been. She kissed my lips and called me John as I left the doorstep and walked towards Ange’s car. It disturbed me; It was, as I realised over that Summer, just the start.

[And I can't operate on this failure

When all I want to be is

Completely in command

How can I be sure]

When I got back to School I found Simon sitting on my bed waiting for me. He never came into our years Dorms unless he had to, so I was a little taken aback. The dorm was empty apart from some kid who had a cold and he was snoring, his head back, mouth open, catching flies. When I saw the look on Simon's face I knew I had fucked up somehow. He rose and immediately slapped me hard across my cheek.

“You stupid little fuck, why did you say anything? I am being watched more than ever now.” I slapped him back twice as hard and caught his lip with my Dads watch, he stared, stunned and his lip split, blood trickling down his chin. I glanced over at the sleeping kid, he had heard and was now on his elbows staring. I pulled at Si’s sleeve and dragged him to the corner. He pushed me away and spat at me, blood and sputum hitting me square in the chest. I clenched my fists tightly, doing my best not to hit him. I hissed through my grinding teeth…

“I was worried about you...so was Miri” At the mention of his cousins name he folded his arms and clicked his tongue.

“Oh yes, I have heard you send each other little love letters...you told each other how much you want to fuck each other yet? His voice was getting louder and I urged him to be quiet in case the kid heard.

“Simon, let’s go talk somewhere yeah? Your room or summat?” He laughed and cruelly started to mimic my accent.

“Summat? Summat?” He snorted and carried on bitchily…”Yeah let’s go fuck or summat maybe, smoke sum faags and get Brahms?”

I didn’t care about the kid anymore, I was beginning to shake, I couldn’t understand what had happened. Why was he hurting me like this? It couldn’t be just because of Miri...He was the one prepared to marry her.

“Si, please don’t do this...I’ll stop writing to Miri I promise…” He laughed and waved his hands at me.

“No you carry on dear boy...you might do me a favour...you know I have to fuck her too? Yeah, make little ugly fucking shitty babies. Why don’t you do it for me?…” I stood open mouthed...I hadn’t even thought about that; even though he had been part of his parents contract. I suddenly felt a little sick.

“Simon please…” Trying to rest a hand at his shoulder he brushed it away; then came the bullet.

“Fuck off Sebastian, I just don’t want to see you anymore. That’s it…finished.” With that he left, striding from the dorm and out into the corridor. My knees went weak and I retched, I slapped a hand to my mouth for fear of crying out...Tears clouded my eyes and I tried to make it into the corridor but standing in the door frame I could see he had already gone. Staggering back to my bed I curled into a ball and sobbed. My stomach felt like it had been ripped out, my heart ached and I whined. The kid in the bed had got up and slowly approached me, standing in his pajamas beside the bed. He gingerly held out a tissue to me...he looked at me sadly before turning away and returning to his bed.

[There is no why, no need to try

I thought you had it all]

I had been a fool to think it could last forever, or even a few years.

My heart broke in two.

...but there was still more breaking to do.

[...you don't give me love

You gave me Pale shelter]

*****

 


	12. Hold Me Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic: 'of Ritual and Romance' (Final piece)
> 
> Part 12: Hold me now.
> 
> A look at Sebastian's time at Boarding School after his fathers death.
> 
> NSFW. Underage/Teenage sex, BDSM. Drug taking....
> 
> Music: The Thompson Twins...Hold me now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are taken for Twitter RP SLs by Sebastardmoran and are the writers original works. Bast is played in an Hoxton accent and the writer is British.

[I have a picture pinned to my wall

An image of you and of me and we're laughing, we're loving it all]

It was two weeks before I even caught sight of Simon again. I felt there was no point trying to see him, going to his room and making a fuss. It would just totally give the game away and I would be out on my ear immediately. I went through moods of wanting to kill him and silently crying. I just didn’t know what I expected. Maybe an explanation...I needed to get this out of my system somehow and so I did the only thing that ever worked. I put my name down for the next lot of boxing trials and started training rigorously.

I dropped a stone in weight, but that may have been depression. I looked like a right lanky streak of piss in my shorts going running before breakfast in the March winds and rain. I bumped into him purely by accident one Saturday morning on my way to the fields. He was walking across the quad with Patrique the black french kid in his year, who I had met several times in Simon's room at the meetings of ‘the misfits’...basically smoking hash and talking about boys. His friend Vihaan De Souza had been sent back to Goa to assist his father in his shipping company and Patrique was spending more time with Simon and Petey. He was tall, with chiseled cheekbones, dark brown velvet skin, a sultry soft french accent and a broad white smile. I always got the feeling he didn’t like me too much because he had a thing for Simon. I guess now I was out of the way he was free to make a move on him. My stomach lurched as I saw Simon laughing with him, happy. The possibility dawned on me that maybe Simon was fucking him before he dumped me.

[Look at our life now, tattered and torn

We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn]

Head down I increased my pace and ran past them towards the Burnt Oak, I didn’t stop till I reached the tree stumps and flopped down onto one, my head in my hands. I sat there for sometime staring at the wet grass beneath my trainers, not wanting to look up, in fear of remembering the Summer, the field trip and how happy we were. I did so anyway when I heard someone approaching...it was Teddy. Little Edward Hastings in his uniform carrying a sandwich wrapped in tin foil. His little face framed with his blonde curls. I could never understand how he managed to get away with keeping it longer. Maybe no one had the heart to order him to shave it off. This boy on the first time we met in Simon's room called me a ‘savage beast’, now he seemed subdued and timorous. The fast flighty flirty little fox from the paper chases, seemed as though someone had clipped his tail.

“Hey Sebastian, I brought you a bacon sandwich, thought you would be hungry. I saw you running.” I began to smile until I saw the green and yellow bruising on his wrist. I took the sandwich from him and lay it on my lap, and took his wrist in my hand, pushing up his sleeve.

“Where did you get this?” He frowned and without speaking sat next to me on the log. I sighed and opened the sandwich. I handed him one half…

“Thanks for this...‘ere, you ‘ave some, I’m meant to be eatin’ chicken and bleedin’ salad.” He smiled and bit into it. “Was it Michael?” He nodded silently. I growled…

“Fucking shit. What for? Has he been forcing you?“ He shook his head.

“I want it to stop now...I don’t want to be his little fag anymore. “ His lip started to tremble and a tear rolled down his cheek. He chewed hard at a mouthful of sandwich trying to bite back his words. “He hits me and it’s not fun anymore...and I don’t think I am the only one. “ I was already angry and my dislike for Michael had just hit a plateau.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im” Ted touched my arm…and I looked at it.

“No, no, you can’t, you will get thrown out for fighting him. He’s...he’s put his name down for the boxing trials…” Yes, yes...it was a good idea. He was probably around the same weight as me now I had lost some. I could get rid of my anger and give him a kickin’ at the same time.

“I’ll do it...I’ll knock the bastard on his arse for you. What about you in the mean time? You have to say no to ‘im. Make sure you are never alone with ‘im. Keep one of the other boys with you.” He nodded, if a little unsure.

“Thank you Sebastian” He put a small hand on my thigh and placed a small kiss on my cheek. I pushed his hand away.

“Teddy, you don’ ave to do tha’ for me...honestly. I don’ wan’ you to.” I put my arm around him instead and lent his tiny frame into me. It felt good holding someone, and I felt he needed some protection and tenderness. We sat there for sometime in silence before he spoke again.

 

[Hold me now, warm my heart

Stay with me, let loving start, let loving start]

“I’m sorry about Simon. You love him don’t you?” I nodded.

“Don’ tell anyone...it doesn’t matter anymore does it?… We walked back to the quad, and after saying goodbye to Teddy, I marched straight into the Sports hall and into the boxing gym; looking for the tables of names of the boys put in for the trials. I pulled the pen from the noticeboard and crossed out my name against a kid in my year and rewrote it next to Micheal's. I was gonna kick the bastards arse.

Occasionally I would spot Simon across the dining room, he looked too thin, unwell. Sitting next to Petey and Patrique even against Pedersen's danish complexion Simon looked pale. Something was dreadfully wrong, I could see that now. I was determined I needed to speak to Petey, not Patrique...if they were together he wouldn’t tell me anything.

I looked up and saw Micheal, dark haired and sneering as he watched me across the room. He was aware now of our upcoming fight and by the way that Teddy had surrounded himself with others; he must have been also aware of the advice I had given the younger boy.

I never went home for Easter and as March passed into April, the school became split in two. Those who were taking exams in the next few months or the following Summer were rarely seen, only coming out from their rooms or the library for military training, events or Sunday worship. This included my year, though currently my mind was not on mock exams but getting fit and ready to fight. I was determined to get the extra bursary the boxing trials would give me, ensuring I could stay at the school the following year.

I had not written to Miri in a while but two weeks before I had sent a note telling her about the bout and asked if we could write again. I assumed she knew about Simon and I but when she wrote back she didn’t mention it. She did though send me a good luck card and a photo of herself on Sorrel. I tacked it to my bed and soon the boys in the dorm began teasing me about my older girlfriend. I didn’t correct them, I would have been pleased if she was mine.

Saturday the 22nd the day of the match I woke up and realised...it was also Simon's sixteenth birthday. I went for a run and showered before breakfast, then did a light warm up in the Gym. Whilst getting changed to fight I looked at the list of people who had put their names down to watch it. Teddy’s name was at the top of the list, followed by several of my dorm mates, a handful of first years, masters including Montague-Harris, Smithin's my form master and ferret faced Jeankins, most of the boxing class boys and lastly, P Martin, J, Pederson, and S Wessex.

[Fuck, why would they come?]

Maybe to support Michael? No, even if Simon had changed he must have known how Michael had been treating Teddy.

I looked for him around the ring but I couldn’t see him or Petey and Patrique; though Teddy and two of his friends were sat in the front. Teddy nervously pulling his jumper sleeves over his hands. I hoped not to cover up anymore bruises.

Michael walked into the ring with a smirk on his face like he knew something I didn’t. It gave me the creeps. I didn’t show it of course as we shook our gloved hands. My face twitched with anger and I sneered at him as we waited in the corners. His dark hair had been shaved short and he looked a bit of a thug.

He had bulked up. Standing a couple of inches shorter than me he was stockier, but I was lean; I had toned up and was in better condition than I ever had been.

The bout was four rounds of three minutes and I was determined the bastard was going down on the last one. The Sports master sat with a panel of two others at the side of the ring and as the first round started I went on the defense ducking and weaving to wear him down. I came back in with some distance testing jabs and a cut to his chin. I backed up, satisfied I had won that round.

As the second round began I saw him. Sat behind Micheal's corner leaning against the wall; Patrique, Petey and Simon. It put me off and I let Micheal get a combination of punches in to my chest and chin. He won that round, but I was not going to let Simon see me get beaten. I slipped, swayed, parried and clinched perfectly and ripping into him I wore him down so hard, to the point the referee broke us up. The final round began and the kids watching had begun to cheer for me, some rising from their seats. Micheal's dorm mates cheered him on, but the only people I looked for were Teddy, who remained seated his hands over his mouth, and Simon, wrapped his arms tightly around himself and was biting his lip. I held back for the first minute and went on the attack in the second. I hissed at Micheal over the cheers and jeers and I think he got the message; he messed up, made a big mistake and tried to fight back with rabbit punches and a kidney jab.

The ref immediately disqualified him and declared me the winner. Holding up my arm I grinned in triumph and felt proud as Teddy stood and clapped his hands together shouting my name. I looked towards the far wall and Petey and Patrique were applauding...Simon...had left.

My heart sank again.

Michael walked out of the gym ashamed and angry, but he never went near Teddy again.

The next day I was bruised and sore, but was the talk of the school and many of the younger boys who knew Teddy came to congratulate me after Sunday service. As I walked back through the grounds to my dorm a familiar voice drifted across the quad to me on the wind.

“Sebastian, stop a moment…” It was Petey...He caught up with me and found a quiet corner along the Sports hall wall to talk.

“It was good what you did for Teddy...Michael was always trouble. We were there you know? It was a good fight...when will you know about the bursary?” I accepted a cigarette from him and he lit it for me. I enclosed my hands around his to stop the wind from blowing his lighter flame out.

“I dunno, soon...I saw you. Is he fucking Patrique now then?” Petey looked surprised at my question but answered anyway.

“No, they are just friends still. I have a girlfriend now though...a girl from St Marys.” St Marys was the girls school on the other side of the village and like us the girls were on the constant look out for some ‘extra curricular’ activities. “She’s pretty, with red hair...nice tits”. I laughed loudly...I had missed Petey, and his light humour.

“Exam stuff goin’ okay?...”I took a long drag and stood a little closer. “Um, how is /he?/” He frowned…

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...Simon. I am worried. It was his birthday yesterday and he didn’t want to go anywhere. He disappeared for two hours at nine and came back upset. You’ve seen how thin he is…I thought...I thought...maybe it was drugs…”

“Fuck no...the thought did cross my mind but he wouldn’t throw it all away would he? What.. heroin?” He shook his head…

“That is what I thought, but when he was out, I went through all of his things in his room; nothing, nothing at all. He isn’t even smoking weed now, or drinking. No one comes or goes to his room accept me or Patrique. I don’t understand it. I thought maybe...maybe you could at least try to talk to him? It was his idea to go to watch you fight. He talks about you sometimes...sometimes I just hear him crying at night. It is making me so sad to see you both like this.”

I shook my head and looked at my feet. “What if he tells me to fuck off again? He won’t talk to me.”

“Just try”...Around the corner came weasel faced lanky bastard Jeankin’s and Simon walking beside him. Simon stopped when he saw the two of us and Petey and I quickly put out our cigarettes throwing them into the drain below us. Petey stood straight and shook my hand formally “Goodbye Sebastian, well done with the fight.” With this he turned and walked towards Simon and the Maths master, who made his excuses and walked back towards the halls. Simon and Petey carried on walking Simon glancing at me as he passed. I tried smiling at him but he just looked away again. His trousers now hung on his hips, and I could see they were baggy around the arse.

As it turned out I didn’t need to try to talk to him; he came to me a week later. I was sitting alone on my dorm bed, as it happened, writing to Miri. She had spoken to Simon by phone and he had told her about me winning the match. She had sent a postcard with a picture of Ray Mancini asking if she could see a photo of me in my shorts.

[She never gave up did she…]

I quickly hid my writing pad as he coughed lightly in the doorway.

“Simon?” He smiled sadly and sat down on the bed, the mattress barely shifted.

“Hello Sebastian.” I stared at him confused.

“Why are you here? To wind me up? Y’know everyone is worried about you? You don’ talk, you’re too thin, you look ill. Petey thought you were on smack and Miri is convinced you are gonna top y’self.” He lay back on the bed and sighed, his hands on his face.

“I want to be a doctor, I’m not that fucking stupid. I came to say sorry, I need to know you will forgive me one day”

“Forgive you? I don’ even know why you did it...Why Si? What did I do?” He stood and started to pace, agitated, his arms wrapped around himself as he had done in the gym.

“I can’t explain, I was stressed I guess, a little depressed…”

I watched him confused…

“...but if it was your exams?” He turned and snapped my head off again…

“It’s not the bloody exams Moran...just forget it I shouldn’t have come here...they’ll…” I stood and stopped him walking, my hands on the prominent bones of his shoulders.

“Why did you come? Why? Simon please…” he lowered his head, laughed, and sniffling he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I came to tell you I love you...that maybe, I regret it. I can’t do this anymore. I need you...I need you to help me.” I had no idea what he meant, I pulled him to me and embraced him tightly.

[Hold me now, warm my heart

Stay with me, let loving start, let loving start]

“Two months Si...it’s felt like forever...’ow do I know you won’ dump me again?” He rested his forehead heavy on my shoulder.

“Look at me ‘Bastian...I’m a mess…Make me strong again…” I pulled away…

“I am not strong…” He stroked a hand over my chest and looked at me quirking a brow…

“Oh I don’t know, certainly looked pretty good from the back of the gym…Can we try again?” I nodded and took his hands…

“Y’promise, no more sulkin’ around and hidin’ stuff?…”

“I promise.” And there is was...the one thing I thought he would keep...his word.

[You say I'm a dreamer, we're two of a kind

Both of us searching for some perfect world, we know we'll never find]

That night I went to his room. Petey, happy that we were together again stayed in his to give us some privacy. We fucked for an hour...I felt like I was breaking him; shattering his bones like he had broken my heart. He moaned my name over and over, until he couldn’t take anymore. I wrapped myself around him to keep him warm until reluctantly I had to leave. I left him bruised and satiated between his sheets.

He was mine again…

I woke happy and practically ran into breakfast grinning like an idiot. I waved a hand to Petey and Simon over the other side of the room; they laughed and smiled back. After I made my way to the gym to pick up some kit I had left the day before. There were no boxing classes that day so the building was quiet accept for the sound of the first years in the other gym that backed onto it having a gym lesson. You could here the master shouting commands to them and the sound of the cushions on the horse and box as they jumped over. I heard footsteps behind me and was pleasantly surprised to see Simon at the door.

“‘ullo, whatcha doin’ere twiglet?” He laughed and slapped my arm.

“I ‘ave a lot to do today so I thought I would come and see you…” He pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and twirled them around a finger…I squinted…

“Wha’s tha’?”

“Keys, obviously...I have been gleaning them off a teacher for a few months, taking copies.”

I laughed “Oh yeah, naughty boy, where are they for?” He grinned back at me with a beaming white smile and nodded his head towards the large storage cupboards at the back of the Gym.

“Here…” He pressed his fingers into into my chest and pushed me back towards the doors laughing.

“‘ere? Si, I ain‘avin’ a fuck in the cupboard...anyone could turn up”. I laughed and let him push me against the doors...I kinda liked this...his confidence was coming back. He found the key and pushed it into the door and undid the lock.

 

[So perhaps I should leave here, yeah, yeah go far away

But you know that there's no where that I'd rather be

Than with you here today]

 

“Who said we were going to fuck?” We both took a door each and opened them, slipping inside before he relocked it, pocketing the keys again. The cupboard smelt of rubber, sweat on the judo mats, rope and boys...It was both repellent and arousing.

“Seriously Si, this is mad...fuck you make me horny….” He grinned and sucked at my neck fumbling to open my trousers and pulling me free from my shorts...Sinking to his knees he kissed my cock delicately before taking me in his mouth. It was heaven after such a long time, his mouth was perfect, his soft bow shaped lips in a perfect O. He looked up at me, he eyes dark and full of lust. I moved my hips and rocked them back and forth fucking his warm wet mouth. I was so near to coming my voice was loud and urgent as I called his name…

...and the door unlocked, opening suddenly.

Panicking he stood and I frantically tried to push myself back into my trousers. There in the doorway was ‘Tugger’ Jeankins raging and cussing me loudly, as loud as he possibly fucking could, so everyone in the next gym could hear.

“YOU SICK TWISTED BOY...YOU DISGUST ME...YOU BOTH DO...FLITHY DISGUSTING BOYS…”

I was shocked and couldn’t even do up my flies. I started to rant back about how he was a hypocrite and then it dawned on me...Simon…

Simon stood there whining and patting his arms in panic, not begging Jeankins to stop...but me. I looked at the Maths master and growled…

“...and why are /you/ here ‘Sir’? Wha’s a Maths master want in a Gym cupboard? You followed us…” He sniggered and his pushed his fingers through his receding blonde hair. He was probably only about twenty-nine, maybe thirty now but his deep crows feet and a thin worn face made him look forty. His eyes flashed towards Simon who was screaming at me.

“Sebastian stop, please, please...this will make it worse” Jeakins tilted his head and lowered his eyes to my crotch.

“I’m not the guilty party here am I Moran, sneaking around the building at night, sex, alcohol. Persuading Simon to take part in satanic rituals, smoking heroin? Do you wish me to continue?”

I was shocked “Satanic…what the fuck?”

Simon was crying now like a girl, sobbing uncontrollably…

“Please Sebastian, don’t...it’s not...you won’t win, I’ll been trying to protect you.” Jeakins laughed and pointed a finger into my face.

“You boy are finished…”

I wasn’t even started...I lost it, the rage came like a red curtain and I drove into him like an oncoming juggernaut...I pushed him back into one of the shelves and punched him repeatedly in the head.

Simon was clawing at my arms trying to pull me off him. “Stop Sebastian you will kill him…Please…we are all going to get expelled...Please Sebastian…”

I stopped just short of knocking him out...the Gym master running in to pull me off him...I shrugged him loose. I must have looked the guilty party. Stood over him, flies open, blood on my knuckle, red eyes, hair in my face, Simon crying his eyes out.

I was physically marched by two older boys and two masters to the corridor outside the headmaster's office. Simon following a long behind, white as a sheet and mumbling. Jeankins was taken off to hospital, with a fucking Police escort. He was right...I really was finished.

We were left in the corridor...Simon at one end, myself at the other. He was shaking and crying...so was I; but for different reasons.

“How long Simon? ‘ow long did you know?”.

He shuffled along the benches towards me and held out his trembling hands…

“He used Michael...to follow us...he knew everything about all of us...he threatened to get us all expelled, you, me, Petey, Teddy, Patrique, Michael...All the shit Micheal put Teddy through was because he had totally messed his head up...and mine. I tried to finish it to protect you...I knew what our father had done I couldn’t let you think…” I screwed up my face in anger and stood up…

“My father? My father never laid a fuckin’and on me...it’s wasn’t him...Oh my God...Oh no...Oh God please no...Simon, please tell me you ‘aven’t been lettin’ tha’ bastard...No..no..no..no…”

I growled and gripped my hair nearly pulling it out at the roots. “Ow long Simon? Oh God…”I retched and held onto the wall to steady myself.

He was struggling to catch his breath…

“No...It wasn’t like that...I said no right up until after Christmas and then...then I did...things...not sex.”

I looked at him through the tears and whimpered…

“No...no...you did...that's why isn’t it? Why you dumped me...guilt...you felt guilty…” He mumbled now trying desperately not to admit it…His words catching like a crying child in his throat between the breaths.

“Once...I let him once...then I...t...told...him...no...more. I came...back to you...please...please…”

I stood silently shaking with shock…

“Where? Please...tell me it wasn’t your room?” He shook his head. It must have been Jeankins rooms. I felt so physically sick…

Captn Montague-Harris, face like thunder, commanded me to step away from ‘Wessex’ and enter his office.

This was it...the end.

I passed on the customary salute and went into another flying rage, standing over his table, arm extended; pointing at his back accusingly as he stood looking out of the window…

“You, you useless shit...Are you gonna let this sick bastard get away with this all because of the reputation of your School and precious fucked up inbred family? /That/ is your nephew out there you have let be buggered by some perverted sick shit who likes touching up your precious boys...You…you who wants to marry off your daughter to a boy that can never luve her? You are as fucked up as he is…”

Montague-Harris span around and with one movement brought down his swagger stick on the leather topped table with a crack, making me jump; before pointing the end into my chest and prodding me with it. I remembered my place and stopped, my chest heaving.

“You boy cannot pretend to be so fucking self righteous...did you think we weren’t aware of you and Simon’s sordid little games?” I swayed on my feet,a little faint as he continued, his teeth clenched and his mustache twitching.

“Jeankins will be sorted out as I see fit, and once you leave this room you are to have no contact whatsoever with any of the boys here; or /my/ daughter. Do you hear?”

[Oh God Simon…Miri…]

I realised what was coming and I could only think of the others...I began to plead with him…

“Please...Sir...please don’t expel Simon, or any of the others...that bas...pig has been doin’ other stuff...it’s not their fault...I’ll take the blame please…” He curled his lip and sat down heavily in the chair…

“Your subordination will follow you Moran...I can only give one word of advice...Join the army, or you will die in prison; I don’t believe there is any hope for you…”

“But Sir, my exams can’t I stay for them? Please…I don’ wanna be expelled again...please.”

He picked up his whiskey decanter and began to pour a large one into a crystal glass. His hand shaking the bottle clinking against the rim.

“It’s too late boy. I have called your Aunt...she will be here in two hours. You will be escorted to your dorm, you will pack and will wait for her by the gates. Now get out of my Goddamn sight.”

I lowered my head and walked to the door, fighting back tears...I turned back, I had nothing to lose…

 

[You ask if I love you, well what can I say?

You know that I do and that this is just one of those games that we play]

“I loved him Sir, and that bastard took that away…” He huffed and sneered…

“Don’t be ridiculous boy...you act that queer in the Army...and you won’t last twenty minutes…”

Twenny minutes...was to become twenny years.

I slammed the door shut, it echoed down the empty corridor. Simon had been ‘removed.’ Two older boys ‘escorted’ me back to the dorm. Neither one of them laughed at me or made comments. They walked quietly beside me and once back, left me alone to pack. I sat on the bed and took the blue tack from Miri’s photo, held it close and cried, the tears falling on to her hair. I packed everything I could, but left several things for the other boys in each of their beds. Sweets, chocolates, pen knives, music and porn mags. A packet of Johnnies in Nige’s, the kid who I had fought with over a year before, who had given me the split lip that Simon had sewn up. The lad who had constantly kept me up with his wanking all night had become quite a good mate. For the lad who gave me the tissue on the day Simon dumped me...I left a small AM/FM sports radio tucked under his pillow. I left all my uniform apart from my beret on my bed; I wasn’t going to need it anymore.

Pulling my rucksack on to my back, I began to make the walk of shame through the school...I passed the Sports hall and couldn’t help whimpering as I passed the gym. I passed the lake and caught sight of the Burnt Oak in the distance...the Spring sun shining over the woods...and memories of Tibor, the fire and our times together came flooding back.

**  
** [So I'll sing you a new song, please don't cry anymore **  
**

And then I'll ask your forgiveness though I don't know

Just what I'm asking it for]

As I approached the gates, trudging along the road; I took out my rabbits foot from my pocket and looped it around my neck. As it turned out, in defiance of the headmasters words...there was a small gathering of a boys standing by the gates to say goodbye…

Teddy and three of his year, stood together whispering goodbye as I passed. The small boy ran out from the path and hugged my waist...thanking me. I couldn’t speak, just nodded and patted his hair. A few of my year saluted me and I automatically returned one; but no longer proud of it. The last three were silhouetted against the sun, but due to the heights, I knew exactly who it was. Patrique walked forward first, shook my hand and kissed my cheek…

“Au revoir Sebastian. Nous nous reverrons un jour.” I nodded and smiled gently…

“Au revoir Patrique.”

[Hold me now, warm my heart]

Petey, stepped forward and surprisingly threw his arms around me. I was a little overcome and squeezed him tight beginning to cry again...I whispered…

“Please look after him...Don’t leave ‘im alone...ever.” He nodded and pulled away, pressing a photograph of the three of us together taken with his polaroid camera. I put it in my top pocket and looked to the final person with his back to me...Simon turned to me, his shoulders still shaking.

[Stay with me, let loving start, let loving start]

So much had changed in a year...Simon had been confident and full of life...he had given me some much love and experience; I had become a man, strong, angry and determined...but we had both been left broken boys.

I wanted to say ‘I love you’, but once again the words stuck in my throat. He touched the rabbits foot at my chest and his voice quavered as he spoke…

“I’ll find my way back I promise...Pere Lachaise, remember?” I nodded, I wanted to be angry with him, but I understood…

“Will you ever forgive me ‘Bastian?”

I stroked my hand down his face but did not answer...My Aunts Bentley pulled up alongside us and I looked into the back of the car where the twins sat solemnly, holding hands between the seats; staring forward so as not to embarrass me. Ange was blowing her nose delicately with a hankie and dabbing her eyes.

Opening the passenger door, I got inside, and wound down the window. Simon followed the car until we left the gate; then he turned and broke down into Petey’s arms. Turning to the road ahead I didn’t look back; Ange touched my knee gently, then squeezed my hand before returning it to the gears. We sat in silence until we got back to the East-end; where my mother was waiting on the doorstep of our house in her winter coat...

That Summer my life changed even more dramatically...I forgot about Paris, Pere Lachaise…until I met a boy with Simon’s smile and his mothers laugh.

[Stay with me, let loving start, let loving start]

-Fin-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Sebastian's story does continue...  
> When Sebastian meets a young man who brings them back together...
> 
> I will post this asap. 
> 
> x


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